We’ve come a long way from the not-responded-to love letter. Those days, we’d consider the mail may have gone undelivered. Weather, insufficient postage, or someone’s dog may have been to blame. Then, there was the phone call that went to the answering machine after five long rings. We’d leave polite messages, beginning with “Hey, it’s me.” No return call could be due to accidental erasure of the message. A kind email would be sent years later. Hmm, perhaps it went to his junk mail folder. Now, we’ve reached the next level: The black-holed text message. Maybe she lost her phone.
Face it, friends–no response still means he or she is still just not that into you.
You should consider the lack of a response to be the kindest rejection possible, because it leaves the reason open to your imagination. Instead of considering the possibility that the object of your desire finds you unattractive or repulsive, why not assume that person realized you’re so attractive, the distraction you cause is far too much to take? That must be it: You are a delicacy, and the non-responder is quitting you cold turkey to avoid addiction. Sexually exhausted and mentally distracted is no way to go through life. Sorry. You must go.
I’ve been rejected for any number of reasons. I’ve beaten myself up enough to know them by heart:
- Too hairy (except top of head).
- Has cats.
- Hates kids.
- Had a vasectomy. (That can work both for and against me.)
- Too old.
- Writes horribly perverted prose.
- Swears too fucking often.
- Drinks too fucking much, too fucking often.
- Considers the following to be complete bullshit, and isn’t afraid to say so: religion, new age medicine, yoga, meditation, therapy, valet parking, biking, marathons, and decaffeinated anything.
- Has temporarily parked his penis far too many places.
Think that gives me a complex? Nope. Know why? Because I am narcissistic enough to consider myself perfect, and the rejecter flawed. If someone doesn’t enjoy me, she has poor taste in men. She has done me a favor by releasing me to discover a woman with better taste. (Oh, she’s out there … somewhere.)
So, ladies, if you’ve gone on that first date, which you thought went magnificently, and it has been two days with no contact from him, what gives? Most likely? He doesn’t want to have sex with you right now, or he isn’t willing to put in the work required to get you naked. You might get that late-night “Wassup?” text message a week from now. (That’s the drunk him, who wants to have sex with you.) Don’t smear your mascara over it. It doesn’t mean you’re overweight, stinky, or wrinkly-elbowed. It means he has shitty taste in women. You don’t want to be with a boy with shitty taste, do you? That sort of fellow will splurge at Kmart. He’ll whip up marvelous dishes of mac ‘n cheese with hot dog slices. His car (with the boogie board, Cheetos, and empty Monster cans in the back) will need to be parked on a downward slope in order to start. Freshening up to him will entail slapping some Brut on his ball sack. He has awful taste, and it would lower you to be with him. Lose his number because he’s still not that into you, but I am … I mean, if you are.