Your Ego is Up Here...I'm Gonna Need It Down Here
I just want to ask a simple question. Really, that’s it. I’m not hitting on you, I have no interest in getting your phone number or trying to take you home. I mean, if you find me attractive and want to flirt with me a little, then fine. But that’s not my objective here. I honestly do want to know if you are who you look like. But something tells me you’re not going to see it that way.
It is a sad, sad state of affairs, really. You see a girl who looks somewhat familiar, you think maybe you should say hello, but you know what is going to happen before you even open your mouth. Chances are this girl in the Pizza Shop is not the younger sister of a girl you knew in High School, so she will give you a snooty, short answer, look at you with great disdain, and walk away. She will then make a snide remark to one of her friends closely resembling “God, what a lame-ass line. Such a loser.” Because, yes sweetheart, you are THAT hot that guys try to pick you up at Pizza Rustica.
How has it come to this? That a guy cannot ask a girl a seemingly innocent question like “Do you know where’s the nearest Burger King?” without her thinking it is some sort of pathetic pick up line. Memo to Ladies: Not every guy who approaches you is hitting on you. More often than not, actually, he is treating you as just another person, trying to get some information. If I see a guy who looks familiar, I’ll ask him, because unless you are in South Beach or Key West, chances are he won’t think anything of it. But girls? Oh no. Girls take it upon themselves to think every man on Earth is trying to get in their pants which, I hate to poke a hole in your rosy forecast, is definitely not the case. Don’t flatter yourself, honey. You’re not that hot.
Blame is to be shared by both genders. The throngs of scumbag dudes out there who actually do use sorry ass pick-up lines like “Hey, do you have an older sister named Maritza?” on every girl they see over a 4 just ruin it for the rest of us. So, a big giant Thank/Fuck You to all the Javi’s, Pedros and Oscars around Miami who hit on anything with two legs and an ass. It is now impossible for me to start a harmless conversation with any female in this city because you are such a jackass. How about letting them come to you and not looking so goddamn sleazy. And desperate. I guess it must have worked for you once, so you keep on trying. Give it up. You’re pathetic.
But ladies, you are more to blame than the guys. Why? Because your self-image is so diminished that you must somehow convince yourself every guy on the street wants to be in you. Soooooo not the case. Most guys, not me, bust most guys actually have these things called standards. And a lot of guys set them rather high. Which means if you ARE the type of girl to be getting 2 slices of Rustica at 3 in the afternoon, chances are I actually don’t want take you home. Get over yourself. You reek of insecurity. How about being friendly and approachable so that even if you aren’t who I think you are, or you don’t know the answer to my question, we can at least have had a pleasant social interaction? And afterwards I can go back to my car and you can go back to the group of guys you are attention-whoring it up with, and we can have had a pleasant social encounter. No sex, no, “Yo, lemme get your number so we can ‘hang out’ sometime.” Just a simple question and answer. Is that so hard? I guess it must be, because most girls I have met seem incapable of such a civil exchange. So please, relax ladies. Because the chances are pretty good that I am not the scuzball you think I am. And chances are even better that you are not the Victoria’s Secret model that you think you are. Get over yourself, and enjoy that third slice of pizza.