Underneath the Defensive Snarky Comments

I am like one of the guys, and not girlfriend material.
I wear makeup, sure. Do I get my nails done? Yeah. I don’t enjoy getting all cute and dressy, it stresses me out. Dates typically consist of eating some meal, and movies are just boring. I enjoy my sweatpants, I say stuff that would make a sailor blush, I am more likely to flip you the bird or the peace sign than giving you an actual hug. I use the word “fuck” as frequently as a comma, I laugh at inappropriate times, I have my concealed carry permit, drink with my coworkers and love my big dogs. I own more pairs of running shorts than actual pants, skirts, dresses combined. I’ll take black coffee over fluffy frappe-whatcha-ma-jigs any day, and I’d rather go to the range than the spa or fru-fru dinner.
This is just who I am. I am independent, stubborn and loud. I don’t handle authority well, and would rather give orders than take them. When my orders aren’t followed, I flip out. I hate taking advice from anyone, and unless I ask for help, then fuck off, because I can do it myself. Do I sound like girlfriend material yet?
Stay around me a little longer and you will see that underneath I am just a hollow shell of a person; filled with nothing but coffee, air, and self-hatred. My walls? To keep others out. If I am a bitch nobody wants to be around me or get close, which has many benefits. The people that actually know me tolerate me quite well and have become accustomed to my off the cuff defensive snarky comments. My relationships with others are as fucked up as my relationship with myself and food. Getting close to a guy means having to be vulnerable, having to let him in, and worse, even the possibility of being intimate. I don’t even like hugs, let alone having a hand on my ripply fat thighs, or around my dimply roly midsection. I use my sarcasm and blatant mean side to keep others at a distance.
You see the tough, mean, loud side of me. To the people close, they see the side of me that never comes out anymore. Laughing to the point of crying, stopping in the middle of the road to let a squirrel cross, taking my sister to get her nails done. The girl who actually wants a hug, wears her pink lacy underwear under the running shorts, curled up in bed with her best friend on a Friday night watching Despicable Me.
So here I sit, black coffee, and pineapple, shivering. Debating on going on a date, and getting my nails done, but wanting nothing more to go to the gym. Fuck I want a nap….and more coffee.


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