Foul Ball

So after another round of particularly disappointing dates, with particularly disappointing men, I thought I would rant in a different way today. Brace yourselves... it's a poem.

"Foul Ball"


Ninety-nine dates
And you'd think that I'd learn
Guys don't want you passive,
But don't want you stern.


No all that they want
Is a piece of eye candy,
Who can also tell jokes
And with a hammer be handy.


But even those things
Won't please every man -
In bed they want to hold you down,
But in public they won't hold your hand.


I've tried distant but in an instant
They decide I'm a bitch.
I've tried open and being hopin'
They won't decide I've got a glitch.


Cause a man only wants
What a man cannot have,
All the men always crave
A girl who's treating them bad.


So I'm done with this game
And I'm throwing in the towel.
Cause this thing we call 'dating'
Is a game that's just foul.


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I think this whole dating process has started making me a tad jaded, no?


Next post back to prose. Promise!