Irregular P.O.V: A Humorous Observation of Dating

Dedicated to that oh-so-adorably idiotic Frat boy who attempted to lure me to his bed after a casual meal… thank you, you won me an A+ in creative writing.


Entertain me with your smiles. Tell me lies so that I may, perhaps, over the placid expressionless demeanor of my face, I may be roaring with laughter within.
I can understand why you would lie.
I can understand how you wish me to believe that you are perfect.
I'd never blame you. I'd never even see it, were I not gifted with intuition. I'd probably think you were perfect, and without flaw. I'd sleep with you, and give you all of me. And when you'd call "us" off, I'd blame myself instead.
But you can see, quite comically, that this is not to be. Not for us.
See, I can tell you're an ego-driven jerk. I can read you and your intentions so listlessly.
Oh yes, I do think you're quite attractive! You're well-formed and all that; you hold yourself well and have a very magnetic smile.
But is it enough to move me?
I'm sorry to disappoint, but your beauty clearly isn't enough for me. I cannot let you touch my breasts if I thus dislike you.
I don't quite know you enough to hate you.
But it doesn't mean you aren't trying. Oh you are trying very hard indeed to have me like you.
You're telling me all of the "right" things, all the things you think will make me swoon. But I'm still laughing. See, you clearly haven't understood me when I said "I'm not like other women."
Compliments repel me. Don't call me beautiful, or say that my eyes "shine like diamonds". That may very well have me hate you.
Give me an insult instead; your honesty, unguarded and blameless, shall make me like you all the more. Tell me that my hair is frizzy, or, perhaps, that I am fat. I assure you, I won't slap you.
The worst you shall receive from me is a giggle: which means it was a poorly executed insult. I might ask you to never try that one again.
I don't mean to hurt you by saying you're not my type. I'd say it isn't you, out of some bullshit protocol, but, well, it is you. You're even more vain and eccentric than I thought at the beginning of this conversation.
I've known too many boys like you to not make my experiences applied.
As you can tell, I'm not easy. It's amusing because it appears this is making you try harder nonetheless. You're saying you're an ostentatious asshole. Yes, you are. You're saying you know you're one to always break hearts. Yes, yes, you probably are.
But you're willing to stop all of that for Me!
Oh, this is too funny now. You think that after outwardly expressing my disgust you'd get the point, right? Wrong.
I'm flattered, really, by your persistence. I must be a prize to be won.
Your willingness to kiss my ass is growing on me.
But oh, please, let's end this as cordially as we can manage without wounding your pride. I would hate for you to be bitter. After all, I'm perfectly certain there's more suitable game at the local pub or saloon.
Let's view this in a very sensible light:
You're a hunter, and I'm not willing to lay down and be your prey.
I do hope we can chat from time to time.
You are, after all, a valuable reference.