A Rock, a Hard Place, and an Ex

Hi, from the looks of the title I’m almost certain you’re expecting to see some magnificent  comparison between choices that will be life changing and continental, but remember who  you’re reading. Instead of real issues with college and shit, I’m here typing to compare my current male suitors. For a 16 year old, this is continental. Like with prom and shit, I’m basically trying to find my future husband that I will probably resent in about 15 years.

The Rock: Tyler

I know a rock is an important part of this metaphor, but this kid is literally a rock. He works out constantly and has some fucking killer muscles. Even though I first though this was to compensate for his devastatingly small penis…….well, let’s just say I was joyfully surprised. Anyways, this guy is all around fucking perfect, he’s smart, funny, well liked, athletic, etc. And get this, he finds me attractive?? Like openly finds me attractive??? Only catch about this kid is that he considers himself a Republican….need I say more? But don’t count him out, he’s totally convert-able…I mean he already accepts my flamboyantly gay best friend, what more do I need? Another thing: I fear he might be too popular, like too many people like him, too many fucking girls, and we all know how fast I jump to conclusions so who knows if it would even work. But he’s also extremely sweet to me like constantly, and while because of previous situations I’ve conditioned myself to think I like for someone to be a little mean to me, it’s nice being treated like I mean something, ya feel?

The Hard Place: Jake

I also cleverly named Jake the hard place as we were at a hard place with each other emotionally when we “re-met” at the restaurant that we both started working at. I say this because I dated his little cousin at one point when I was like 13 and met him a few times and yeah, needless to say, it was a tad awkward. But after we started getting used to each other we started laughing and joking and eventually texting. Get this though, we text constantly and whatever, yet at work he doesn’t exactly act like he we talk to much. Like we still talk and laugh, but he doesn’t let on that he likes me too much. Maybe he’s just trying to follow the whole “you don’t fuck where you work” motto and is trying to keep things semi professional at work and not let everyone know his business (which I completely understand), but I still feel like maybe if he liked me this much he would maybe talk more???? Like he says he’s shy and all but?????

The Ex: Emmett

Before you tell me how stupid I am for fucking with an ex, I already know, don’t hound me and my naive heart. I’ll learn one of these days. I feel like everyone has that one ex that keeps stumbling back into their lives one way or another, and that’s Emmett. The only reason we broke up is because I decided to be used by a prick for a year and a half instead of being in a relationship. I just find myself constantly thinking what-if or about giving it another try. I mean now a days he likes to smoke pot and listen to rap music a lot, but right on???? I guess???? I don’t know he’s always been really up my ass and loving towards me, so might as well throw him in to my big ole bucket of hoes. I mean I can forget he fucked one of my best friends to get back at me for leaving him right???

As you can see, I’m extremely torn and extremely dramatic. However I’d love to hear an outside perspective on this shit show so feel free to comment below on what I should do/who I should go with, since it’s obvious I have no fucking idea. That’s (almost) all folks.

-K

 

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I love Football

Yep, you heard right love football. Me, the semi-athletic 16 year old girl who’s only experience with football was being a cheerleader (I couldn’t name 4 football positions) loves football. No, I am not saying this so boys will see it and want to shove their dick in me, I’m saying I love it because I do. But………it’s not the actual game I like, its the activity (and more specifically, the Super Bowl). I love the act of 60,000 people getting together to watch a bunch of 20 something year olds who are probably jacked on steroids throwing a ball around. I love the full on fights that occur between friends over the “best” teams, most of which end with someone being fully exposed for cheating on their wife of 15 years. I love seeing the veins that pop out of the old white mens’ necks as they yell at the referees through the television screen or over thousands of other people as if they can hear them (I’m looking at you dad, shut the hell up you scared the dogs). I love the copious amounts of bar food that many homes serve for the game. I fucking love hot wings and home-made guacamole. Most of all, I love seeing my brother, dad, and step-mom have a bomb ass time eating and drinking, while watching one of America’s favorite pastimes.

(I know this was sappy as shit get over it, my heart was present and full. You can expect the usual loathing tomorrow probably.)

-K