As a recently-turned 28-year old, this reader submission pretty much sums up my (very first world) worst nightmare.
Date over. Now. I need to go home, eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, drink half a bottle of Pinot Grigio and schedule a meeting with the undertaker to see if he can formaldehyde the crows feet off my face.
Ladies and gentlemen, the price of love:
You know we’ve all thought it, at one point or another.
Worst version of “it’s not you, it’s me,” ever.
You’re not only so great, that I need to get as far away from you and possible and undergo an extensive mental overhaul. It’s going to take years, so. . . ya know. . . don’t call me.
He’s a keen observer, this one.
She probably noticed the first time she saw him naked, and secretly hated her butt because of it. But nice of him to take his head out of his own tight ass and finally notice.
Wow. Guys, what not to say on a first date? It’s this.
And that chicken now has a better chance of getting lucky than you do. Surprise! The mirror can be cruel.
Some may say nice guys finish last, but in this case it sounds more like he dodged a bullet.
Yeah. Nice people? F*ck that.
Ah, romance.
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Sometimes, there’s not much to say beyond, “yikes”.
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Yep…. yikes.
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