For the last time, I DO NOT WANT A BOYFRIEND. All boys stay away. You are yucky.
As I talked to The Hunky Bartender at CC Slaughters last night, the one whose biceps I do not want to grope and whose weight I do not want to feel on top of my body as we make love in my bed, I realized that I just want to be alone. The Hunky Bartender and I were discussing the idea that boyfriends only materialize when you don't want them. First you have to love yourself, blah blah fucking blah, and then the love of your life will show up when you least expect him.
Let me just say that the last thing I am expecting right now is a boyfriend. If a sexy Swedish doctor who likes to give massages and has a wrestling fetish showed up today, I would send him away. If he happened to be a bodybuilder, I would laugh in his face and say, "Leave me alone you rich gorgeous musclebound Scandinavian."
In fact, I am sitting here pointing a rifle out the window of my, um, log cabin where I do all my writing, and am just waiting for a man to dare show his face. I will shoot him. I hate men, especially ones who want boyfriends.
I swear to God I will lose it if some Asian hottie with a thing for tall blondes sends me an e-mail today professing his love for me. I will block his e-mail address from this day forward and change the name of this blog to Hot Toddy's Lactose Oven just to scare him off. If one of the ex-boyfriends I am still in love with (shut up - there are only three of them) calls me and asks me to come back to him, I'll slam the cell phone down in his ear. First I will have to tell him I'm slamming it down because you can't tell that a cell phone is being slammed, but, rest assured, I will most definitely be slamming it.
Okay, I've clearly stated my position on not wanting a boyfriend. In the several paragraphs I've written to demonstrate my insistence on remaining unattached my phone has not rung once. No e-mails. No Swedish doctors. Come on, guys, what is the problem? Can't you see I don't want or expect you to show up right now? It is the last thing in the world I can imagine happening. And, even if it did, I would avoid you by hiding under my desk and pretending to be "out sick" - which, sadly, would be so believable to my co-workers since my sick days are as frequent as Cher's farewell tours.
Did I mention how much I love myself? I couldn't love myself more if I tried. I loved myself for about twenty minutes this morning and was running late for work. Imagine how much I love myself on the weekends when I don't have to go into the office! I may even go love myself right after I post this, so if you are waiting for me to love myself before coming into my life, you won't have to wait long.
If you are a romantic man and feel moved to start courting me based on this post, please do not leave me a comment. I will not respond to you. You are not welcome here. Go away or just send me an e-mail (and a picture) so I can delete it and block your address. If you want, you can also call my cell phone (I'll have it with me all day and usually sleep with it next to my bed) but prepare to have me slam it down in your ear. You've been warned.