July 16, 2014
Who the fuck are we supposed to marry?
These days it seems like every guy I meet is either a club promoter or aspiring DJ. The pool of eligible bachelors for us to choose from is shrinking faster than the water supply in California.
Like am I really supposed to date a guy who claims to be focusing on his “music,” which in reality is just pushing buttons on his MacBook? As if.
And the club promoter epidemic may be even worse than the DJ’s.
The job of a club promoter is to bring hot girls to nightclubs. These promoters are usually wearing some form of black leather, a gold chain, and an earring most likely from Claire’s.
They frequently say they are about “that life” but all they do is get $50 everytime they bring 5 hot girls (ratchet whores wearing Wet Seal) to the club. Like does the nightclub offer you a 401k? Are you gonna be able to afford a country club membership for us and a vacation home in the Hamptons? I don’t think so.
They think they look like this…
Yet in reality they look like this…
When did guys stop aspiring to be businessmen and start aspiring to be Drake?
When did “can I take you out to dinner” turn into “let’s go to the club on a Tuesday, turn down for what?”
Since when did guys stop asking for our phone number and start asking for our instagram username?
Of course there are still a few token guys working their way up the corporate ladder into millionaire status but for some reason (most likely inspired by The Wolf of Wall Street) they are not looking for a girlfriend. They want to make their first million before they even consider getting in a relationship and when they do they believe they are entitled to a model or they're just fucking old.
What is a betch to do?