Dear Guys Who Invite Me Over to ‘Watch a Movie’
Between Justin Bieber still living in the US, the additional month I have to wait until Scandal comes back, and the fact that it won’t stop fucking snowing, there is a lot I could be hating in life right now. That said, there is still nothing I hate more than when a guy I don’t really know that well asks me if I want to “come over and watch a movie.”
If you’re going to just try to go for the V, you need to at least put some effort in. Take me out for drinks and dinner before you invite me to your place. I can’t claim that my game is on some Beyoncé level shit, but I have a fully functioning and disease-free vagina thank you very much, and I’m counting on some work being put in on your end before I inevitably refuse to give it up. If twelve-year-olds are willing to run around an obstacle course, answer riddles from a talking tree, and embarrass themselves on live TV just to fail at putting together the Shrine of the Silver Monkey, you can expend some energy into attempting to get in my ironclad pants.
My point is, people have been willing to do a lot more for a lot less.
Shit, now that Blockbuster’s gone out of business, you don’t even need to leave your house to drive to the fucking store to pick up a movie. YOU DON’T EVEN NEED A PHYSICAL COPY OF THE MOVIE IN THE FIRST PLACE. Now any asshole with a working laptop and an internet connection and his friend’s brother’s roommate’s dog’s Netflix subscription thinks he can hit it? No, and no.
And don’t think for one second I’m deluded into the whole “I’m being a nice guy who just wants to watch a movie in the company of a girl I like and incidentally also want to bone” bullshit that you might be going for. First off, if I wanted to be spend time with a nice guy, I would stay home and watch something that Topher Grace is in. Second, maybe some other basic bitch would believe that you could actually get to know a person while you’re sitting side-by-side, not looking at or talking to one another for 1.5-3 hours in front of your TV or Mac, but my four years of college partying have left me with enough functioning brain cells for common sense. So no, I’m not falling for that shit either…
Next time, I’m going to insist we watch 12 Years a Slave and fuck your whole plan up:
You’re not as smooth as you think,
The Betches
