Rule #24: Even underwear models have poopstreaks.

It’s hard to imagine that there could be anyone wrong with someone who looks like this:

Hello Daddy! I mean ideally, this man would rip you from reality and off into some magical land with castles and then you could bathe in the money that he makes from modeling together. However, I have noticed that men like this have been blessed with a child-like immaturity, obsession with body image and video games. Many of the reasons why we got along so well.

I fell for it. The tricks that he pulls on every girl in the whole wide world. When we met, I was with a friend. He got both of our numbers to seem nonchalant, or maybe to see if he could get with my friend if things didn’t work out with me. Men like to prey on little girls like that. He starts texting us both but continued texting me and I had to lie to my friend every time my phone buzzed because we were both under the spell of his defined abs and hulking biceps. He planned for a group of us to go see a B-rated horror film which he was raving about before and after the movie. But here is where his immaturity really shone through. My friend and I snuck away to the bathroom and while we were gone, he arranged the seating so that he was next to me on the end and my friend was sitting and snuggled between two of his bros. He couldn’t have made it more obvious that he was interested in me and wanted nothing to do with my friend. Sure he was sexy, but I have a conscience here. No one breaks my friend’s spirit that horribly. He definitely could have taken a less subtle approach, like, I dunno, not inviting her in the first place?? Alas, I was still under the spell of wonderfully defined body parts. We went to go and hang out at a mutual friends place where the douchiness escalated. He tries to pull that scary movie shit and tells me some ghost stories about his childhood and expects me to go leaping into his arms. I was still concerned about breaking it gently to my friend that I am the more desirable one in that situation. But really, she could have had one look at my ass and realized that it was no competition when it comes to chocolate men. When I didn’t go leaping into his arms after his deftly told ghost stories, he literally says to me “I’m super ticklish, don’t tickle me.” That is an invitation. Picture a muscly sculpture screaming at the top of his lungs “TICKLE ME!” Of coarse I did. He squealed like a piggy. What a character, right??

It came time that the night was winding down to an end and my friend was supposed to give me a ride home, but as we were walking out the door, he announces to her that he was going to give me a ride. So we crawl into his suped up VW 2006 Bug. Fly as a fly. After he blew me up with house music and then asked if I knew who deadmau5 was (um do you know who the Pope is?) we were finally in my driveway. He kindly walked me to my front door and asked if he could kiss me. I thought I would be coy and say no with a smile on my face. He took that as a direct no and got back in the car and scooted out of my neighborhood. And that is how you reject a male model ladies…on accident.

The most horrible thing about this story is that this wasn’t the last of him. He also pulled the ghost story, tickle me and then check out my awesome ride on my Best Friend, roommate and every girl at the club that he ever met. Apparently douche bag is the new form of steroids.