After countless unflattering Snapchat selfies of you and your several chins followed by equally unflattering graphic text messages, it’s become clear to me that your quest to get between my legs is a relentless one.
While we flirted for a short time one evening, leading to an exchange of phone numbers, the next call to action wasn’t clear. But I certainly didn’t expect what came next.
Despite the fact that you barely know me, you somehow think it’s perfectly appropriate to ask for sex… over and over and over again.
So, any good vibes I felt towards you were soiled the moment your efforts and intentions became strictly sexual. Each request has left me scratching my damn head, wondering what led you to believe I was so apt to have sex with you so soon after meeting for the first time.
Like, really?
I mean— there was literally not a single coffee date or “let’s meet for a drink" date before you went for the full Monty.
Although I’ve ignored every advance you’ve tried to make, you continue to send messages saying “let’s fuck" or “I want to fuck you." You’ve also accused me of “teasing" you, even though I haven’t been in contact with you for months now.
Ok…?
Which leads me to say: your constant chase in the form of post-3 a.m. texts is not flattering or appealing—it’s just a nuisance.
For some odd reason, you must still be under the impression that I might still actually have sex with you, even after disregarding every single one of your perverse invitations.
You making this assumption about someone you know little-to-nothing about is straight up pretentious and speaks volumes about your character (or lack thereof).
The fact that you have only expressed interest in my body and not anything else I have to offer is insulting to me and everything I have worked for to date.
By allowing someone so impudent to have access to a single inch of my being would be the ultimate form of self-disrespect.
So, simply put, my answer is and always will be no.
Now, sashay away, fuckboy.