60/40

On Monday I came into work and my boy Law (short for Lawrence) says to me:

“I think you’re 67% tomboy. 33% Cinderella-ish.”
“Hah! I think that’s an accurate assessment. But I’m more like 60/40. How did you come up with that figure?”
“Because, some days you come here and you’re in flannel and a snapback. Other days I can’t tell if you’re going on a date or just feelin’ yourself. Sometimes it’s both.”

I am currently shopping for hood rat clothes while yelling at baseball on my couch. I’m upset that Vogelsong already threw an excess number of pitches by the 3rd inning and wasn’t relieved before he gave away 3 more runs. I’m also online shopping and evaluating whether or not dresses are tight/short/sexy enough for a trip to Miami/party cruise at the same damn time.

I also cook, clean, bake and quote hip hop songs while trying to make you laugh. Whatever the hell I think a complete package is—that is how I expect to be perceived. Yes. I have very high regard for myself. Where have you been?

I get compliments from men I respect, I get positive feedback from my fellow ladies… But everything is currently backfiring, because I just have a major question at this point:

If I’m so fucking cool why does dating suck so much?

My friends respond with the usual:
- Men are intimidated. (Bullshit.)
- It’s New York. (Probably.)
- Don’t worry. It’s timing. (Fuck. I hope so.)

I realize I am the choosey one, but it’s only because I expect my equal. I have reiterated this a thousand times.

I want the entire package too: 60% interesting/intelligent/quick-witted/funny mother fucker & 40% stylish/hot sex beast. 

FUCKING UNICORN.