track nine

‘Merican // 0:27 – 0:31

You don’t wanna listen, you don’t wanna understand. So finish up your drink and go home.” – Descendents

While I had been playing just the tip with the types of folks I met in our adventures and I think it’s about time to start talking about the would-a-beens. The people who fucked it up for themselves before we even got to the benefits part of being FWB. Why bother writing about it then? Well, because why the hell not. I’ve learned while trying to write all this up that sometimes the most entertaining adventures don’t even involve fucking.

The first idiot in a long line of folks who talked me out of fucking them is probably the most obvious as to why I fucked way off once I got to know him.

His name is unimportant & he got the boot long before he was given a nickname. Everything was going pretty well until he got comfortable & said the quiet part out loud so to speak. He announced pretty proudly he was a racist waste of space who’s mama shoulda taken one for the team & swallowed. Granted he didn’t say those exact words, but it was clear as day to me what type of person I had been talking to and that I had no desire to continue the conversation.

We had been texting back and forth for a couple of days when out of left field and after already setting a time, day and place to get drinks to see if physical chemistry carried over IRL, this fucker decided to fly his bright red flag with a rather boring, racist joke. And then had the balls to badly back peddling with flubbed apologizes, excuses and proclamations of wanting to do better.

I’m not gonna give you guys exact details because 1. it’s been almost a year since this interaction & while I remember what was said that set me off, I don’t remember the context (trust me, no context could ever warrant some saying stupid shit like that) & 2. I don’t want to give anyone with less than kind intent tips on how to subvert my dickhead detector. What I do want known is not everyone who gets in line gets a ticket to ride. There’s a surprising (and ever increasing) amount of steps that lead up to the fun parts and if you show one ounce of being less than the person I’m trying to become myself, you will be told to kick rocks, used as an example as who not to be & then quickly forgotten.

After showing X the text that set me off & quickly typing up a brisk reply to explain (in great detail) how he’d fucked up, I did the only thing left to do & blocked him.

Then I blocked the spam number he went on to text a weak, half-assed apology from.

Moral of the story: it’s really not that hard to not be a flaming asshole. It’s an absolutely free & low-effort task to not to be a bigoted piece of shit. I mean, if you wanna fuck hot humans anyway. Specifically if you wanna fuck me.

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