I liked you, you know. I did. I thought we could make it work. Our sushi dates were enjoyable. I was funny. You were insightful. We didn't resort to the usual asinine conversations I have with most civil servants. Civil service - now there's an oxymoron if I've ever heard one. Most of you are braindead, or at least your brains are horribly attrophied from dissuse. I thought you were different.
You had the nerve to tell me that I didn't seem interested. For the longest time, I couldn't even figure out what that meant. Did I genuinely give off that impression, or were you just being arrogant and manipulative?
You said I didn't seem serious, since I was planning on moving away to Japan at the end of the year. Well, I'm not necessarily going, you know. My plans change all the time. And this was a plan I came up with before I met you. There is a reason why you and I are perpetually single.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with the way I treat women. I'm always respectful. I never expect anything from you. I'm charismatic, without the arrogance. Well, I admit I do have a bit of sass, but mainly, I just want to entertain you. I want to hear what you have to say. And whatever it is, it's always entertaining. But somehow that just never good enough.
And you were right when you said that I wasn't interested in you. That statement alone made you right.
You're still single, because you tend to make excuses as to why a guy isn't right, and then you toss him back into the pond, reasoning that a better one will come along. What if this is as good as it gets? Did you ever think of that?
"This one's too messy," you might say, or, "he's too short. I don't like his hair. I don't like this one's face. This guy's too muscular. That guy's too scrawny. This guy has no ambition. That guy's a workaholic. This guy wears argyle socks." You'll always find something, because there always is something. Nobody is going to be perfect for you. No one. But by all means, keep looking. You know what you'll find? You know what happens next? You're old, and nobody wants you anymore. Men may seem to be in heavy supply now, but give it another five years. The illusion won't last, and when you're in your mid-thirties and you start to get desperate, don't say I didn't warn you.