Watching Out - Kate Bueler

Watching out. Watching out for douche bags really isn’t that hard. Not when they text you things like- and I quote- “hey if you’re still interested give me a shout, you cool.” It was as if one of my high schoolers was crank texting me-no this is real folks this is an attempt at trying to hang out with me. Me a grown ass woman. Me someone who could be considered attractive and funny and at this point I got better attempts at hanging out with me when I was in the 6th grade. This shit is pathetic. And this attempt at courting or dating or bumping is just so shameless ridiculous I can’t help but feel this might be the dating low of a lifetime. Oh but it’s not because there has been others.

So I have decided that my ass my pretty nice ass is not going to take a date with a man or attempt one unless he takes off his underwear with action heroes and see if his balls have actually dropped and then picks up the phone. And calls me. Call me old fashioned. But if that type of game, that type of grammar works on someone- please show me because I think it is almost beyond words. I would rather do about a million things like clean my room, talk to myself in the mirror, job interviews. It’s nice to date; date adults but boys in adult’s clothes shoes too big and their dad’s jacket just can’t cut it anymore. I don’t have time for this shit. But really my patience has just worn thin.

Years ago maybe I might had fallen into some ball of mush when I got a text but not anymore. I guess the attempts at effort fall short when they fall short line by line. You cool. You ain’t that cool. I don’t know where I am going in this thing called dating. But it is sad to think that my younger self got some better ask outs then now. I shake my head and roll my eyes and say seriously. Because this is not as good as it gets folks. Nope. There is more. More than this I am sure. Because I have had those before. Words that meant more than dropping the lure to see which one of the girls you might have meet at a giants game will respond. Respond I didn’t. I just laughed. And told my friends. And thought what a douche. A douche I didn’t have to date to realize he was a loser. He did me the luxury of typing it out in a memo. A memo sent to me and some other chicks. You cool. I am. Thanks for the heads up-your aren’t.

Thanks for not allowing the intrigue of you to grow into other than this. Because I have been fooled before but how can you be fooled when it is so blatantly typed before your eyes. I read it more than once just in case I was confused. Nope. Not confused. Just watching out for douche bags. I am done dating the selfish and the problems and the lackadaisical lifestyle of trying pursuing me. I don’t need rose pedal lined doorways or 5 star anything but what I do need is the buzz of my phone in my back pocket. And a growing smile against my face as I put the words the words of you in my ear. Hearing you out loud. Asking me. Me to see you again.

Call me old fashioned. Call me whatever you want. But this I know. I know I need someone who can do it the right way. Or I’d rather talk to myself in the mirror than get a pathetic text message such as the one from the 615. I am just too busy stop for anything else. But a phone call. A phone call so simple. So easy. But so hard for someone who is wrong for you to do.