Thursday, February 2, 2012

How men are like cars

Recently, I was forced to break up with my first car and shop for a new one to better my life. At the dealership I felt as if I were on a dating show while my mom bitched in my ear about how “this one is better!”, when in reality I wasn’t attracted to any and only wanted my old car back. And then it hit me, car shopping is like dating.
The types of cars and types of men
El Mercedes Benz, brode:
This one is simple; you have a celebrity crush right? Travis McCoy is mine. I will marry the shit out of his face. However, I’m not Katy Perry so I can’t. The transition from dating her awesome boobs to dating mine would make him cry. This Mercedes Benz is the one that you can only day dream and pretend you are riding. Then one day there will be an epiphany in your overdraft notice caused by a drunken attempt to buy gum that will say a Mercedes is not in your price range. Like Travis, I can always day dream about riding him, I mean, marrying him but one day but I’ll also realize that he is not in my dating range.

Yeah right, I see the way he looks at me at concerts.
The Volkswagen fling thing:
My first car was a Volkswagen 91 and boy was he handsome. Deep down I knew that Patrick, yes I named him, wasn’t going to be a long term car. My mom would argue with me about how I couldn’t fix Patrick no matter how much I begged my mechanic. Patrick manipulated me with his cute plaid seats, tried to convince me that he would be responsible for getting me to work on time and amazed me with how little gas he needed. He would even go topless for me on the weekends. Sound familiar? Yes it does. That ridiculous relationship where you are clinging like an annoying cat, with no good reason. Why, because he’s cute? Nobody likes annoying cats. Be a hawk, those mother fuckers know what is up. Being hawk-like will make you aware. You are well aware that the engine sucks, (personality sucks). You are well aware that its condition won’t last long (he’s not willing to commit). And most importantly you are well are you are wasting your money trying to fix its mechanical issues (wasting your time trying to fix him). Ladies rise yo’ hands if you feeling me. I’ve always wanted to say that.  With each time my car left me stranded and late for work I gave my crazy ass mom a point for being right. She gets a lot of crazy ass mom points. At the end of the day, Patrick had a leak that didn’t recover even when I replaced his top. He really didn’t care that he was soaking my ass every day. I couldn’t find where it was coming from.  Have faith in my insanity, readers, I have a moral here. Certain men will have leaks, and it doesn’t matter what you change on the asshole, because they will leak.
The car you’ll never appreciate:
 Why the hell do you keep comparing it to your first one? They weren’t made alike for a reason. It/he can be yours for long term. It/he is exactly in your price/dating range. It/he will never leave you stranded. Ladies, this is our main problem. Let’s call them crazy lady glasses. These glasses will never allow us to appreciate the good guy when he’s right in front of us. They also have little asshole attracting magnets on the legs of them. The glasses make assholes look like really good guys you can turn into prince charming. They make prince charmings look like boring frogs. Do we have a little masochist in all of us? It seems that way when we’re always attracted to all that doesn’t come easy and ends up shitting on us. Girls have the habit of putting a diaper on guys and saying “hey shit on me all you want.” Instead of throwing their ass out and saying “hey, I’m not putting up with shit.” It’s safe to say I’ve removed my crazy lady glasses and donated them to Goodwill for someone to stumble upon. If you think my comparisons are nuts, fine but stop giving the Volkswagen points for what it could have been and give the car you’ll never appreciate points for what it is.

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