Perfect Ways for You to Know That She is One-Hundred Percent Over You
Wow, what a girl you found
Buddy, I mean she is "it," if there ever were a girl that fit that description.
She has it all. Drop-dead gorgeous eyes, figure, hair, you name it and it's perfect. She is the type of girl that a majority of heterosexual boys and men dream about most of their waking hours.
She puts every, not just one, but all, Playboy and Hustler centerfolds to shame. With one wink, she gets into sold-out theaters and packed-to-the-max, high-class restaurants.
And you, of all people in God's expansive universe, found her one day while you were having lunch in that "stinking back street diner," as you begrudgingly called it to your male coworkers.
There she was. There you were. Frozen in a moment of cosmic time. Your heart stopped beating. Hers only kept beating her normal perfect heartbeat.
Your eyes met hers. Then you thought that the booze-laden party you attended last night wasn't that wild. Your hangover wasn't that bad, but here she is. "The" most adorable, beautiful girl in the whole world now gazing at you, Buster Langley, a "regular Joe," a faceless employee in a monster-size accounting firm on lower East Side, New York. You are still convinced that you are dreaming.
In a few short months, you will wish that you were dreaming.
Since your youth you have always been a shy, retiring type of guy. You have despised crowds--even crowds made up of two or four people. Your mom and dad prayed for years that you would "come out of your shell," but you didn't. You were perfectly content to just stay shy and lonesome and let the rest of the world pass you by.
But now now. Not as this special moment during your meager lunch of pastromi and rye with iced tea. You feel a strange urge in your heart. An urge that is driving you to rise from your seat and approach this angel in a blue, tailor-made dress who is drinking-in your every move with her ice-cold blue eyes.
You argue with yourself for about two minutes. Congratulations. "You" lost. You get up while wiping your mouth in proper fashion. You slowly walk toward "her" as you check your zipper as if you were alone in the shabby diner. You notice the corners of her pouty mouth go upward as a sign of a girlish smile. You are ready to "hit paydirt," my lonesome pal who's name, to be honest, will not be remembered after a four-month affair with this "angel" who has lost her way.
Nervously, you tell her your name. And liken to a female lioness stalking her prey, she tells you her name as she slowly sips her vodka martini.
Then for some reason you ask if you can join her. She nods that sensuous female head and you are like a "kid in a candy store," for you can hardly control your shaking hands, your nervous sweating and that hacking cough you've had since falling into your uncle Lambert's fish pond in upper Vermont when you were nine.
Please, dear readers, allow me to stop right here and do some professional condensing that would make the Reader's Digest staff drool with envy.
From that point, you two date frequently. Take long walks in the steet lights (due to you not being able to afford trips to Daytona Beach with her), and those romantic dinners at Fifi's, a semi-upper-class restaurant for the social wannabe's.
Then, and this part is strictly for the gullible menfolk, it happens. Like a silent squid preparing to attack a shipping boat in the Pacific, it happens.
You don't know why. You are afraid to ask her why? In short, honest terms, you are scared out of your wits at the thought that yes, you just might be about to lose this perfect specimen of womanhood. A woman who would put Linda Carter to shame. A woman who would make Jessica Alba cringe with insecurity. Yes. This woman who has loved you more in the past rhree months than anyone ever did including your parents.
Then how to you know, men? Simple. Read the following "Perfect Ways That You Know That She is One Hundred Percent done With You."
YOU CALL AT YOUR USUAL TIME
and you can just sense that certain something in the tone of her voice. Example: You say, "Jill, are we on for tomorrow night?" She answers, "Tom, oops, I mean, Buster, you are so right. Tom and I, oops, giggle, you and I are going to eat. Right, snoogie uggums?" Did you see how many times she called you Tom? If this starts with your perfect girl, get ready to bail, for she is tired of you and ready to roam.
YOU ARRIVE AT HER DOOR
And she is not ready. This is very strange. For everyone of your 200 dates, she has been ready spic and span and ready for a night out on the town, but not this time. She is nervous as she asks you to come into her apartment. Then out of the bedroom steps this Tom Selleck (in his Magnum P.I. days) and she looks like death on a fast horse. "Who's this?" you ask. "Errr, this is, uhhh, uncle Jimmy. He's just retired from the Navy Seals." Uncle? With most of his clothes off? And her top unbuttoned and her just dressed in panties? Something is not right here, you think to yourself. I tell you what to think. Get out while you still can. This girl is restless. She doesn't have the nerve to dump you like a normal chick.
IN THOSE INTIMATE TALKS WITH HER
as you are telling her of the plans you have for you and her, she is captivated by a yacht setting sail out to sea. You are somewhat hurt as you ask, "hun, are you preoccupied with something?" "No, babe. Why do you ask, Bill, oops, giggle, I mean, Buster," she coos knowing that you love her too much to get angry and make a scene. I am here to tell you. Make a scene. Show your butt. You have a right to. She keeps calling you other men's names. She doesn't love you and please, cut your losses and get out.
SHE TAKES WAY TOO MANY SICK DAYS FROM WORK
come to find out she has been calling the television repair man to fix the television so she can watch her favorite show: Days of Our Lives, but what is mysterious is that you do NOT own a television. Say goodbye to this "Roaming Ruby" and look for a new lover.
WHEN DINING OUT IN YOUR FAVORITE ROMANTIC DINER
she invites, you guessed it. Uncle Jimmy, the retired Navy Seal to join you two without you knowing it. Her line is: "Uncle Jimbo is joining us tonight. I hope you don't mind." Of course you don't mind. You are a wimp, a panty waist and a coward. What hurts you the most is that she and "Jimbo" spend all evening gazing into each other's eyes while you eat and sit silently as the evening wears on. Then she and "Jimbo" get up to leave and tell you that they are saving you some valuable gasoline and that "Jimbo" will see her home. Face it. You are about to be labelled a loser. Get aboard an airline and change your name.
WHEN YOU DECIDE TO HAVE "THAT" HEART-TO-HEART TALK
with her, another woman named, "Bobbi," answers her apartment door. From all appearances, "Bobbi," is a pole dancer at "Billy's Jugs and Brews" just down the street and looks like a tough gal with those barbwire tat's, black make-up and knife on her side. You ask where "Jill" is and is she ready to go out? "Bobbi" laughs at you like a crazed jackass and blows cigarette smoke in your eyes and reveals, "Hey, baby boy. "Jill" and I are lovers and plan to elope." "You can come along to carry our bags and drive while me make-out in the back of your car!"
Now will you wake up?
"Jill" is not the girl for you.
And you can thank me later for giving you back your life, "Buster."
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