To The Boys

To the boys I am currently spending time getting to know:

Please do not write bad poetry supposedly inspired by me. This is not a compliment; bad poetry is an offensive insult on all counts (artistic and personal) and never a compliment. If you do write bad poetry supposedly inspired by me, please do not send it to me. I will email it to my friends and they will then call me and read it aloud back to me while I am at the sdj, thus causing a great commotion when I am snort laughing so hard that coffee pours forth from my nostrils. If you do write bad poetry supposedly inspired by me and have the bad taste to share it with me, please do not then call to ask if I have received it. This puts me in an uncomfortable position and creates much telephonic awkward silence as I do not lie, especially where art is concerned. I understand you meant well, and this was to be a sweet gesture illustrating your feelings; however, I am a jaded old fart who is unimpressed by sweet romantic gestures if they are artistically offensive. Bad poetry is, in fact, a huge turn off, and despite the good intentions, nothing can be less sexy than high school pretention. So please do reserve your flowery phrases to those special quiet moments...with yourself.

Please do not become defensive and act as if I am an imposition on your truly busy schedule if I happen to make a joke about your disappearance being due to disgust over my slovenly ways. I was not calling to passively aggressively chide you about not having returned my call this weekend; I was calling to find out if our tentative plans for tonight were still on. The reason I was asking about our tentative plans for tonight was that, suprisingly enough, you are not the only person in the city of New York that happens to be extremely busy. This would be why I am not at all disturbed by your business, despite what you seem to want to believe...I happen to suffer from the self same malady of overcommitment.

I merely made a teensy weensy joke about not knowing if you were not speaking to me because of my slovenly ways. I thought this to be a cute acknowledgement of the fact that 1. you were horrified at exactly what a slob I am and 2. I hadn't spoken to you since I last traumatized you with my messiness. Had I said something along the lines of "Why didn't you call me back?" in an annoying whining tone, perhaps that would probably give you reason to believe that I was upset about it. I did not. I happened to have been busy all weekend as well. I made a cute joke, being one who tries not to take myself too seriously. Its a good tactic, perhaps you should try it.

I would rather not be made to feel as though I am not being understanding of exactly how busy you are (poor baby, I feel your pain), when I am making no demands on your busy schedule. I have plenty to do on my own without being made to feel as though I am a demanding unsympathetic burden to fit in.

So boys, to sum it all up, I am an understanding non-demanding hellaciously busy straightforward womyn who abhors bad poetry and other such schmaltz. Pretty damn simple if you ask me.