Funny Frat Fuckers Fall for Fabulousness

Ah, ... more frat boys. What could be nicer? Oh yeah, fewer frat boys. After last week's run-in with Eric the Hunk, I figured that I had had my fill of stud à la crème. I was wrong.

This was so until I got poked by a certain ZBT guy, who shall remain nameless. (He's lucky that I'm feeling benevolent.) Okay, so he’s hot, but, really, this one needs a reality check. It’s hard to EVEN consider a guy who says shit like, "I drink eight nights a week at the ZBT [house]," and, "Tuesday night’s the new Thursday night." I know awww about this type of guy. He’s the kind who quickly ejaculates after a long, hard 15 seconds. A stud, no doubt.

The ZBT boy is worse than Eric because he’s in the closet. What is with me? I must have a sign above my head that says "Losers, apply here." That’s exactly how I should have felt when I met a guy 80s dancing on Sunday night. My fabulous girlfriends hooked me up with the drinks. I did a bit of pre-partying at home, and I was feeling good. So, I was a little thrown off, yet still excited, when my friends noticed a cute guy checking me out on the dance floor.

I tried to play it off. It’s easier to ignore guys in a straight bar (as I know all too well). If feigning disinterest only enticed Eric last week, it consistently did so again for this guy. I need to get better at my "thanks but no thanks."

This guy apparently danced his number into my back pocket. When I finally got home, completely smashed, I found it, was flattered, and drunk dialed. I felt sooo sexy that I invited him back to my place (which I never do). His name was Mark; he came in good time and stayed until 8AM, at which time I began the work week.

Of course, he has called all week because I’m not interested. THAT principle is one of the only CONSTANTS of the universe: love a guy, and he drops off the face of the planet; hate a guy, and he’s like a great moisturizer with a personality to match.