Here goes...

This is prob. too much information, but I'm going to write it anyway.

So I took a personality test online to pass the time. It calculated not only my personality type but also my 'love style'. Apparently, my personality type is 'Creator'- meaning i'm imaginative, sensitive, (basically, I'm creative) - and my 'love style' (if such a thing exists) is 'Sensible' - meaning I have to have things practical and reasonable when it comes to love. The profile felt the need to inform me that it is unusual to exibit characteristics of the Creator and have a Sensible love style because Creators are usually of the Romantic type. The program reconciled the difference by saying that I had very likely had my heart broken. It said I probably underwent some kind of 'evolution' to get to the point where I had this 'pragmatic' approach to love.

Ain't that a bitch? That thing knew all my business....I guess I knew that I had changed, but to have some stupid test pick that up, I started to wonder how much. And it made me kind of upset, because I used to find a lot of hope in being a romantic person. I use to believe, like the Romantics of the quiz, that "ultimately...destiny would deliver a love that most people can only dream about." And all I had to do was wrestle with my impatience.

I used to dream of that love at night and wake up feeling it could come true. But now, I dream those dreams...then I wake up and put it out of my head and call myself being realistic. But I lost something.

Sensible is boring.

But safe.

...Right?

Bad David

So recently, a guy I exchanged numbers with told me (when he called) flat out that he felt that men out-ranked women. That was our one and only conversation. His name was - could you guess from the title of the blog? - David. Dubbed, 'Bad David' to distinguish him from the several nice David's that I know. That was several weeks ago - we met at Kroger. Now, I've been back to that Kroger several times without seeing him, but today - when I wasn't in the best of moods - I stopped in for some comfort food, and guess who shouts me out at the entrance. That's right. Bad David.

I wanted to tell him that he doesn't want a girl to date, he wants someone to wipe his ass for him when his mama won't do it anymore, but instead I just said 'what's up', shot him a 'does hell go with no?' look that told him I didn't care what was up, and headed straight for the desert isle.

It might seem like I was rude, but if someone told you 'everything in life has rank, I can't imagine how you don't see it with men and women' and 'if you don't agree with me, then you need to do some more studying' and 'there are certain roles a woman has to fill' (with respect to working all day and then coming home and doing all the child-rearing, cooking and cleaning), oh and the classic 'I'm right, and you know I'm right. You just don't want to admit it.'

I'm surprised he had the nerve to speak.

Please. I need a man that can wipe his own ass.