It’s a situation we’ve all been in before: You see a pretty woman in a bar, mall, grocery store, restaurant, library, laundromat, bowling alley, car dealership, post office, student union, tattoo parlor, or hospital. Smiling suavely, you move in and strike up a conversation using whatever means you have at hand. But every time, you somehow wind up striking out. It’s happened to me, and I’m as eligible a bachelor as they come. These ladies would be lucky to land a guy like yours truly, but still they say no. I’m telling you, all women don’t know what they’re missing.
Sometimes, I look in the mirror and say, “Wow, Justin, women should be falling all over you.” But whenever I approach a girl and tell her that I’m the type of guy she should be having sex with, she begs to differ. What’s the deal with every single woman in the entire world?
It’s not like I don’t have a good job. I work for a prominent lawn-furniture distributor and make well over $41,000 a year. One would think women would appreciate a man with financial stability. And, since I usually bring it up within the first three sentences, it’s not like they don’t know. You’d expect the ladies on this planet to realize I’m perfect for them, but it seems like every woman in any given place at any given time completely misses that fact.
Who knows what crazy things go on in the head of everyone who isn’t a man?
Take, for example, the 200 or so women I’ve asked out in the last year. Every single one of them had some sort of problem that made them not want to date me. I guess they all must have been frigid.
Not only am I well-off, but I’m also well-muscled. I spend at least three days a week at the gym, so you’d think the ladies would be all over me like shit on a shoe. You would be wrong. Often, I’ll see a beautiful woman on a park bench, and I’ll take off my suede jacket and start flexing, saying things like, “Oh, yeah!” and, “You want a piece of this, sweetheart?” Nine times out of ten, they’ll grab their belongings and get the hell out of there as fast as they can. I wish I could say that the other one time in ten, the woman was interested in me, but almost always, they call for the police or deploy pepper spray. To be honest, I prefer the pepper spray.
You know, women say they want a man with a sense of humor, but from what I’ve seen, they don’t. I’m always telling jokes. I know a bunch of hysterical jokes about the differences between blondes and beer, but whenever I tell one, women leave or throw a drink in my face. Geez, talk about all women being on the rag all the time. Well, at least I know it isn’t me. All I can say is, your loss, ladies of the world.
Obviously, I’m just not meeting the right type of women. The only sort of woman I ever seem to meet is either short, tall, thin, smart, serious, overweight, ditzy, career-driven, aggressive, fun, shy, family-oriented, or of medium height. It’s hardly worth the effort talking to that kind of girl.
Well, what can I do? I just happen to have been born on a planet where half the population can’t recognize a good thing when they see it. Bum luck, I guess.
Don’t worry about me, though. Justin Stroebel’s always got an ace in the hole. If the 3,121,833,445 females on this planet don’t see what they’re missing, fuck ’em.
