Different
Please reflect upon the internal thoughts of one man and one woman on the occasion of them discovering that the person upon whom they nursed secret (or not-so-secret) crushes had, in the recent (or not-so-recent) past, hooked up with someone else:
The Man:
But, dude, he's unemployed. And ugly. And lives across the country. And I'm here. I'm employed. I'm fun. I have a really cool car. Women like me. Women love me. I get messages all the time from women who want to go out. There's that one, right over there. The one from the parking lot that one time. She wants me. She totally wants me. Wait. Oh yeah, that guy. He's nothing. He sucks. I'm way better than he is. This girl is crazy to want him over me. I'll show her. I'll never call her again. This ship has sailed. The love shack is closed. No more midnight rendevous. We're done. DONE, I say!
Maybe I'll call her later, during the game.
The Woman:
That girl? THAT one? Wait, I don't remember her. What does she look like? She's prettier than me, isn't she? And younger. She has to be younger. That's a given. And she's tan. Fake tan, but still. I might be smarter, but who wants the smarter girl? Of course, she's thinner than me. Everyone's thinner than me. I'm a fat pig. When did they hook up? Before me? After? Would he still be calling? Of course he would. I'm an idiot. Who wouldn't be running around with a cute, perky, young blonde instead of me? THIN, cute, perky, young blonde. Oh, he must think I'm a total moron. Do you think he knows that I know? Should I say anything? Or just play it off? This sucks. People suck. I hate everyone.
Is that her car parked in front of his house?
The Man:
But, dude, he's unemployed. And ugly. And lives across the country. And I'm here. I'm employed. I'm fun. I have a really cool car. Women like me. Women love me. I get messages all the time from women who want to go out. There's that one, right over there. The one from the parking lot that one time. She wants me. She totally wants me. Wait. Oh yeah, that guy. He's nothing. He sucks. I'm way better than he is. This girl is crazy to want him over me. I'll show her. I'll never call her again. This ship has sailed. The love shack is closed. No more midnight rendevous. We're done. DONE, I say!
Maybe I'll call her later, during the game.
The Woman:
That girl? THAT one? Wait, I don't remember her. What does she look like? She's prettier than me, isn't she? And younger. She has to be younger. That's a given. And she's tan. Fake tan, but still. I might be smarter, but who wants the smarter girl? Of course, she's thinner than me. Everyone's thinner than me. I'm a fat pig. When did they hook up? Before me? After? Would he still be calling? Of course he would. I'm an idiot. Who wouldn't be running around with a cute, perky, young blonde instead of me? THIN, cute, perky, young blonde. Oh, he must think I'm a total moron. Do you think he knows that I know? Should I say anything? Or just play it off? This sucks. People suck. I hate everyone.
Is that her car parked in front of his house?
posted by Miss Head at
5:32 AM
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