Flakey Female Douchebag

Well, well, well. Looky whats we got here. A guest post! This was an unknown, involuntary guest post to be exact. Ya see, I was cruisin’ the ‘ol FB (Facebook) one day, and I noticed one of my friends (a real life friend at that) published a new note. This was no ordinary note either. Why? Cuz he used the word “douchebag” in the title. Immediately I new I had to read it. As I continued reading, he started to swear. Good lord, it was like I was reading literary genius…on FB nonetheless!!

Now, I will warn you, it may be more offensive to a certain subset of a certain gender than I have ever been, but if you’re not an ”exclusive” member of that subset, it should not bother you. You may be wondering why I’m even publishing this at all if it’s so offensive. Well, to be honest, it’s because I don’t really care. Nothing about this site is “conventional”; why start now? If you can handle me telling you you’re a vagina, you can handle this post.  Also, I’ve encountered one (several actually) of these before, and I thought it was very educational.

I was going to edit this because some places are little tricky to navigate, but then I though, “ya know what, this is his work; I’m gonna leave it as is.” IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE FACT THAT I’M LAZY AND NEED TO GET A POST OUT THIS WEEK!!! Errr, maybe…..

(This is where it begins….)

**PARENTAL ADVISORY: EXPLICIT VERBAL CONENT**
**If you are under the age of 16, or are a child with parents in the same circle of friends as my parents, and have determined you are not yet adult enough to read open-minded, educated, opinionated observations containing adult languge; without copy & pasting the entire thing to my paranoid mother; then please hit the back button on your browser and continue you on your day without reading any of the content below**

What…a flakey female douche bag. Yes, contrary to popular belief, they do exist; and they are just as plentiful and abundant as their more easily recognizable male counterparts.

Don’t be fooled by a beautiful exterior, exquisite smile, and luscious curves; the motor’s runnin but there’s nobody behind the wheel. And if there is someone behind the wheel…well, then they’re just an idiot.

Constant LOL text message replies may only be the first clue in uncovering their true identity. Clue #2 may be that even when approaching the “supposedly” mature and independent age of 30, they still play juvenile child-like games while exhibiting behavior more suited to a 5 year old.

Whining about how difficult it is to answer a phone and type on a keyboard working from home. I got yelled at by a client today, boo whoo. What…a stressful life. What…a challenge. How could any human push themselves to handle a job like that? I mean it may have been difficult to put men on the moon; but working a job placement position out of your home or office…now that is, next to impossible.

All the while, complaining and mystified over the fact that they’re still single…perhaps…you need only look into a mirror.

Be careful guys you may be talking to, in a relationship with, or married to this mythical and mysterious “female douche bag” creature…right now. Look out!

To this creature specifically:
Don’t confuse dressing in nothing but top of the line “high society” designer clothing; for actually being intellectually sophisticated. Yes, I cannot dispute the fact that you have incredible style and are gorgeous; denying that would be denying fact (like saying: yeah MJ in his prime, he really didn’t have much for hops, he really never could get up and dunk a ball; some things are just plain visual truths).

But throwing money around in the pursuit of stylistic flare without the intelligent substance for a foundation underneath, then it’s just form and superficial beauty, but with no function.

I’ve met a ton of blue collar machine operators and electricians (females included) who wear nothing but ragged t-shirts and jeans; yet whose IQ would blow upscale office sheltered pricks like you out of the water. After all, even a college diploma is just a piece of paper with your name on it; it can never define the quality or creativity of thought that occurs in your mind.

All the overpriced bottles of wine and exotic spices (no one has ever heard of) to sprinkle on the “well-to-do” fillet mignon that comes just after the Banana Cabbage Salad; can’t hide the fact that you’re as shallow as the fucking kiddie pool. By the way, I’ll take my sirloin medium, plain, and straight off the grill, with a tall glass of water. How’s that for a sophisticated adult meal.

And after all those whiny phone calls, oh my migraine is flaring up again; my shoulders and neck are soooo tense; there are no respectable independent women to hang out with in this entire state; the stress and pressures of life in general are just too much to bear; yada, yada, yada…Why no phone sex? Come on, we’re two good looking people in our sexual prime, a little moaning, touching, squeezing through the phone would be much preferred to a laundry list of complaints. And after we’re done, most of those complaints might actually disappear; just think of it as free auto-erotic stimulation therapy.

If this relationship was developing when we were both in the same geographical area, and regular penetration was involved, this could almost all be tolerated. A good fuck can make nearly any amount of illogical bullshit seem quite irrelevant, at least for the moment. I know it sounds shallow, but it’s the truth.

Red Alert:
I should have listened to the Red Alert that went off in the back of my head when her request for a first real date was to accompany her to her 10 Year Class Reunion, and then to stay overnight at her parent’s house (which obviously never materialized due to flakiness). I’m all for unconventional ideas, and always believe I have enough self confidence to get myself through any situation I’m dropped into. But slow down, why drop the hammer and hit warp speed so early; ok, how do you pronounce your last name? Look up, oh, Mom, Dad, nice to meet you. Just a few too many things goin on.

Unless of course it was a much simpler request for me to just be arm candy at her side to impress some old friends. Which I really have no problem with either, but is it so impossible to follow through on anything that comes out of your mouth?

Only later did I find out, she actually did attend the reunion, but told me “My friend just had a baby, we’re all getting together to see it, so I can’t take you to my reunion.” I obviously am of the opinion that all babies look the fucking same; show me a photograph and that’s all I need; but fine, stupid story, but maybe it’s true. Later it materializes as a lie, why? Just tell me you don’t want to go with me, stand up and tell the truth, I can take it, I’d actually prefer it, even if your most logical reason turns out to be “I have a Magic 8 ball in my coslopus, and it said my future with you is cloudy.” You’d be surprised that you’re not so important and most people won’t care anyway.

I can just picture you sitting there getting a good laugh about the game you played with me, thinking “hah, I get the last laugh, and he goes quietly into the night without saying a word, crying himself to sleep.” Yeah, I don’t think so bitch. You fucked with the wrong guy, and if I had the ability to publish this shit, it would be all over the place, the word would be out, and everyone would know what a clown you really are. [Note from David Sandel: Consider this published]

I heard from her “I can’t handle it when someone tells me they’re gonna do something, and never does it.” Add to that self-glorified ramblings like: “I am a leader. I am an individual. I think for myself. I am independent.”

I have accumulated enough experience in my time on this planet to realize that the people who find it necessary to make these kinds of statements, are normally the exact opposite of what they say they are. So basically whenever they open their mouth, they’re telling you all the things they’re not going to do, and all the character traits they don’t possess.

In conclusion:
I really have no problem that this creature turned out to be NI (not interested) in me, just don’t fuck around with me if the entire time you have no intention on following through on anything you say. I’m not a fragile little hummingbird of a man; I don’t need fake female affection to feel confident, if it’s not true, then shut your mouth and direct your words elsewhere.

I am not completely oblivious, I can read signs, as obviously a communication breakdown is a harbinger of loss of interest; but just come out and say it, don’t keep uttering out excuses and sorries while trying to keep the hook in my mouth. You can stuff your sorries in a sack, Ms.

I actually enjoyed playing along with all the stupid little lies and excuses, just to see how far she was going to take her pathetic menial game of charades. Ridiculous things like “can I please put you on standby for next Fri.” Oh yeah, fine with me, if I was trying to setup a time I’d like my new mattress delivered or waiting in an airport to catch a free flight to Hawaii; a bit retarded if you’re actually trying to “pretend” to setup a date with another human being. I understand this is just another stiff arm, but where’s the stiffness? Is it really that entertaining to brag to all your friends (who knows, maybe it is) that you had this guy all setup to see you a few times over, only to flake out every single time, only to move on to the next “pretend” event without a hint of reaction to the continuing chain of events. Is that dementia or amnesia, I know Samantha Who had one of those, but I think me dating Christina Applegate would be more likely than you ever facing up to the words that come out of your mouth and acting like an adult human being. At some point you just have to say, ok, the bell doesn’t ring for recess anymore, I don’t go out and play on the playground like a 5th grader; perhaps mentally I should advance myself too.

I understand my personality is a lot to handle; I probably would never qualify under the “normal guy” category; fine, I’m not vanilla, predictable, or assimilated; “spontaneous creative combustion” is exactly how I like myself. And if you don’t like it, fuck you.

Yes, I do have a relaxed, comedic, playful, romantic softer side; but I ain’t no Hugh Grant-like pussy. I’ve always also countered that with a hard charging, adrenaline filled, get the fuck out of my way, aggressive side too. It’s called depth and range lady, maybe you just haven’t been exposed to anything like that before.

I would just prefer this creature to utter the truth from her point of view: “You are a fucking lunatic, goodbye.” Plain, simple, honest; or is that just too old-fashioned in this facebooked, twitterized, skyped world?

*NOTE: This commentary is not a slight to women in general. I know there are consistent, mentally stable females out there. In fact I was with one of these beautiful, strong, driven, determined, consistent, mentally stable females for a great deal of my life; but at that younger more naïve age I often teetered on the edge of the “male douche bag” line myself; and I was the inconsistent, flakey one in that relationship. So, in the end, there are incredible females out there, and if I would have never approached the “male douche bag” boundary, I would probably be happily married to one right now. Well at least now I know…what…an idiot I was.

**Author’s Additional Note:
As any even remotely avid fan of Chelsea Lately will have undoubtedly all ready noticed, the verbal style used in this short essay was very heavily influenced by the comedic attitude and swagger of Chelsea Handler. The What…pauses; the use of swap-out vocabulary words like: penetration, coslopus, etc. I did not create them, in all her original glory, she did. I just wanted to give the creator of this verbal style credit, and to note that there is no plagiarism going on here (there is no cut and paste out of any of her razor sharp monologues), it’s just a style people, and I believe it fit my poignant topics very well. All of the thoughts and events are my own. The fact that I chose to use a female comedian as my template, well, yes that is a bit strange; but I believe I can chalk that up again to my layers of complexity and range.

In my sometimes coherent, sometimes not, ramblings it may sound like I am hurt and devastated, not at all, I’ve been burned before, I can take it; this time I just found a lot of what I felt to be hilarious observations floating around in my head, and I would be remiss if I never put them down on paper.