A Strongly Worded Letter To The Group Cockblock

By Betch Waldorf

Dear Less Hot Friend,

When people told me you were going out with us, I didn’t really give a shit tbh. You’re okay and I was too drunk to even remotely register the gravity of this situation. Unfortunately, now I am suffering the consequences of my irresponsible decision. You are a mother fucking cock-block.

Let’s be 100% honest here- I did not bring any money to the fucking club tonight. Want to know why? Because I’m a hot girl, therefore I am not expecting to pay a goddamn dime all night. God literally put men on this Earth so they could buy girls like me free drinks. That’s a direct quote from the Bible.

Which leads me to my next point- are you Satan? Because you’re really fucking up my vibe here and going against God’s previously mentioned wishes. When I’m talking to a guy who is absolutely willing to buy me another tequila shot, why in the world would you try and pull me on the dance floor to dance to that stupid fucking Iggy Azalea song? Why? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of an important conversation that ultimately leads to my own personal satisfaction? Who raised you? Apes?

Even beyond that, I’m looking towards an end game with this drink. He’s cute, he is wearing nice shoes and he has made any creepy comments yet. This guy could be the one…. That I end up having careless sex with tonight. You coming in and ruining my conversation my potentially screw up my sex life, and that is where I draw the line. This guy is looking at me with eyes that say, “get your fucking friend away from me,” and I cannot blame him because you’re a fucking parasite.

Do you know what you should do? You should fucking push up your boobs, take a lap and find some other desperate pro to buy you a drink instead of leeching of mine. This is America, the land of opportunity. Therefore, even the weird friends of this world have the opportunity to get laid.

No seriously gtfo,

The Betches




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