If I Bribe You, Will You Sleep With Me?

This is the classic love story. You’re at a bar and your friend spots a guy she thinks is attractive. As a solid friend, you offer to be a wing woman so that at least one person can have a literal happy ending.

Turns out the guy you’re talking to as your friend starts hitting it off with the other guy (who by the way ends up having a girlfriend after making out with my friend and trying to make out with me like 20 mins later I KID YOU NOT) is not my favorite. He’s a big talker. One of those guys who feels like he needs to prove himself in a big way.

I know I can’t speak for everyone else, but if he was just a normal guy, I would’ve hung around and chatted. I like chatting it up with strangers, especially when my homegirl is making out with soon-to-be douche.

But instead, this guy tells me in 171 different ways that he’s amazing. It’s exhausting and I genuinely don’t think I could’ve cared less.

Ok so now cue a giant eye roll because somehow this guy gets my number. I know, I know. I’m still disappointed in myself for this. However, because of this one mistake, we now enter the story of Hispanic Guy from Social.

***Quick background info, Social is the name of the bar I almost always find myself in troubling situations at. Like this current situation. I also always go to this bar, so I foresee this blog lasting a really long time.

Back to Hispanic Guy from Social. After I give this guy my number and my friend’s prospect turns out to suck major ass, we decide to call it a night. Hispanic Guy from Social did the classic, “What are you doing after this?” And I basically said “no.”

Anyway, I saw him out a couple times afterwards and he always came up to say hi and remind me how fucking cool he was and amazing blah blah blah.

At this point, I thought he would just become another irrelevant person who probably didn’t even remember my name after a while. BUT out of nowhere, literally nowhere (maybe he won the lotto actually now that I think about it), he starts hitting me up with absurd invitations to go on a yacht, go to fancy parties or the club where he has a table and 37 bottles of *name drop expensive bottle brands here*.

Here’s the thing. In the beginning I would politely decline, even come up with an excuse sometimes. But after getting SO many invites, I stopped responding and it got kind of funny. I can literally keep scrolling and scrolling though these messages before I finally see a blue text from me. It became so entertaining, that I have to post some of the messages below.

And listen, some girls are totally about hanging with a guy they literally don’t give a shit about because they get to go on his yacht, fly private and get a nose job, but that really isn’t my style.

In fact, I think its actually sad. If someone is going to hang with me, I want it to be because they want to hang with ME, not my cash or benefits.

I hope HGFS figures this out soon, because otherwise he’s well on his way to being 89-years-old marrying a super hot blonde who is 23 and waiting for him to die.

Let’s all say a prayer for HGFS.

Love,

The Girl with a Heart on Her Middle Finger

 

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