Why are men such douchebags?

I go out to the pool sometimes. You know, to swim? Remember that? You like jump in the water and swim around and enjoy the cool refreshing water and the warm sun. I’m pretty sure this is what the pool was originally intended for. But anyway, it’s all a big pissing contest now.

This chick comes out all wearing a nice bikini. So what starts happening is all the guys start getting out of the water and laying out like bitches trying to show off their bodies to this chick. As if any of them have a chance with her. Now granted these are all high-class guys, with the big tattoos on their back and stuff. You know, real men.

Look at us, babySo all these dudes – guys – boys are all showing off and their attitude suddenly changes. Now they can’t talk to me without some inflection of being better than me. Keep in mind please, that no – I didn’t talk to these guys. I didn’t try to talk to these guys. I don’t associate with assholes anyway. But I notice the attitude they start giving off as they suddenly become Billy Bad Ass and try to impress this girl.

They walk around flexing their pecs and sucking in their bellies and staring through the top of their shades so she will notice them. But not one of them has the balls to approach her. All these muscle-bound wanna-be chick magnets think they are hot stuff – exactly what she’s looking for! So tough. So smooth. But not one can actually walk up and say something to her. She was sitting there trying to read, anyway, and very clearly didn’t care anything about being picked up. She was dressed moderately in a bikini. Wanted to get some sun, read her book and be left alone.

So leave it to me. Obviously I have no intentions with this girl, but I am not afraid to talk to women. And I figured since she was reading, we might have something in common. I am happily engaged, and I generally make it known pretty quickly, so it was pretty obvious I wasn’t hitting on her. And I have to admit, I really just wanted to show off to these idiots that they were wasting their time. So I pull up a chair next to the girl, and start talking and she just opens up and starts spilling all this and that about how this and that is and how he said she said, and blah blah blah, just telling me everything.

Pretty easy girl to talk to. And I notice that everyone around the pool is trying not to let me see them staring. Finally, I pull out my old trusty journal and tear a little piece of paper out of it and hand it to her with a pen. She jots something down on it and hands it back to me. I glance at it briefly then crease it nicely, shake her hand and walk away. These guys dropped their jaws. “This dude got her phone number!” they obviously think. Heh. I asked her to jot down the name of the book she had recently finished and mentioned to me, so I wouldn’t forget. She had told me all about it and I wanted to make sure and read it.

Not once during the duration of our engagement did I glance down at her chest, nor did I lay one hit on her. I was upfront with the fact that I am engaged, and that I had no interest in hitting on her. Just wanted to chat with someone who wasn’t stuck on herself. I had a friendly conversation with her about everything and nothing, and left it at that. Found out, by the way, that she is happily married.

Better luck next time fellas.

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