Oh I just adore being stood up. Love it. Do it to me, baby, one more time. Actually, compared to a lotta chicks, I'm far more forgiving about no-shows. But not that forgiving. True, the poor lovely coulda been creamed into man-pudding on the Jersey Turnpike and this rant could end up being so much posthumous vitriol. Somehow, I'm doubting it. I actually did have a quasi-confirmed date stand me up once because his grandmother had a heart attack. But given that the guy worked in the mobile phone industry and usually had two different cell phones on him at all times, even that wasn't entirely excusable. It takes 60 fuckin' seconds to leave a voicemail saying "We'll have to reschedule" or "Sorry, I got too damn wasted at my friend's to drive now" or even "Uhm, I shoulda mentioned I was gay before. Better luck next time!" But apparently I'm not worth 60 fuckin' seconds of this guy's precious time.
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