You trap yourself in your room, hoping to go to sleep and wake up from this nightmare—which you do, briefly. Then, when you wake up, the messages begin. You start to receive messages from your vodka induced fuck up, and start to hang your head in shame. You tell them you’ll catch up with them in a few day, hoping that by then, they have found someone else to occupy their time. Then it never fails … more messages. More calls, more texts, more emails! They don’t let up, you don’t know what to do.
Finally, two days later rolls around, and they’re still sending you messages. You have no choice but to block their attempts to contact you by all necessary means—but that just isn’t enough. They start to send you degrading messages, trying to make you feel guilty about not presenting them with an opportunity to once again be tucked inside your hot pocket. You tell them to go away, and for hours it works - but they don’t really go away. They just think of the next retarded message to send you, and you hope by some miracle they’ll stop soon.
The role reversal in these situations is in full effect. The woman has to ignore the “man” and hope that his clingy personality is something she never witnesses again. She has to say “well, it’s been real, it’s been fun, but not real fun.” You think of all the obnoxious bullshit messages you can retort with, but you refrain. You’re the guy in this situation, after all. Not the girl who can’t just suck it up and walk away, who instead takes your rejection and turns it into anger.
Guys, you wonder why we’re jaded. We aren’t quiet after we mistakenly let you half pound our pussies because we’re hiding some deep dark secret—it’s because we’re ashamed that we allowed ourselves to get so drunk we thought you were a good idea.
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