This time my seemingly neverending search for love has drawn to a close. Not because I finally met Mr. Right; because I'm too tired to keep doing it.
The whole thing is such bullshit, it hit me as I was paging through another "act like you're not interested because men are just interested in the chase" book at Barnes and Noble. Whatever happened to being yourself? Oh yeah, right, I can't be myself. My brains intimidate men, my refusal to pretend to be a coy twit makes them feel emasculated, and my relentless niceness confuses them because they want someone who'll treat them like shit.
Notice that those books always tell women what to do. Do you know of any books telling men what to do to get chicks? I didn't think so. You guys can belch, scratch, and fart to your heart's content and you'll still stand a better chance than I will of meeting someone nice. Women are the ones expected to play these games, and men just wander around like that idiot from "The Bachelor" picking out playthings for their harems.
I may not be a supermodel, but I'm damn cute. I just refuse to play games. All those guys who claim they're looking for a girl who doesn't play games -- they're lying. Everyone I know is lying about love. Everyone I know wants love; I'm just the only person honest enough to admit it.
Well, screw it. I've got my career and my summer off and my tarot collection and my reviewing duties at AAR and cats and friends and other assorted Kelly duties.
I'm not averse to meeting Mr. Right, but he can get up off his lazy ass and do the searching for a change. I'm tired.