…and by “Prick” I mean “Asshole”.
I’ve been an asshole since birth. What? You don’t believe me? Well, go ask my mother. Seriously, she’ll confirm it all. I didn’t even know how great it was to be an asshole until I put stern effort into not being one. For about 2 or 3 years, I was a decent human being. Yeah, I know that’s kind of hard to believe especially for all 11 of you that follow me on Twitter. All jokes aside, I honestly put my best foot forward in effort to be a nice fucking guy. That shit was fucking horrendous. In retrospect, I don’t even know what inspired the change. I treated every woman with respect, and they, in turn, treated me like a simp. I forgave and forgot only to be fucked over at a later date. My ex-girlfriend even cheated on me. I’m not implying that she wouldn’t have cheated on the asshole me, but I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a fuck as I did, and I know I wouldn’t have done half the shit that I did for her.
Well that was just a brief synopsis of my nice guy era. Now on to the perks of being an asshole…
I don’t get forced into the friend zone…
Every guy has come across a woman that he was interested in, but she wasn’t really interested in him. (I could go into how that type of situation may come to be, but that would be another blog entirely.) I befriend women on my own terms, not because I’m hoping Lisa will wake up one day and realize I’m really the man of her dreams. I have no problems cutting ties with a chick that’s not talking the shit I want to hear, and that’s because assholes generally don’t believe in hope and winning people over. We’re reality based… i.e. if you aren’t feeling me now, chances are you won’t be feeling me later. There’s really no need to stick around for you to ask me to help you move or wait for the cable guy while you’re at work or change a flat or even vent about your on-again-off-again boyfriend.
My compliments mean more
I dole out about one compliment per season; I’m not due to issue another compliment until winter because I got drunk and told a chick she was cute twice in one night. Shit happens. If you think you’ve gotten a compliment from me this season, you’re probably sadly mistaken. Oh, I told you that you have fantastic titties on twitter? #notarealcompliment. Now, on the other hand, I insult people on an extremely regular basis via any platform: face-to-face, text, FaceBook, email, Twitter, or word of mouth. So being that I don’t run around gassing people up all day, when I do actually part my lips to say something genuinely nice, it’s sincere, and the recipient knows it.
I’m the last person people ask to borrow money from
Can I afford to loan a homie 5, 10, 20, 50, 100 or even 1000 dollars? Yes I can. Only a select few can call me ask for a few bucks, and my answer will always be yes. Other folks can eat a dick, and they know they can eat a dick because although I may not have said, “your chances of eating a dick are greater than your chances of borrowing money from me” out loud, my asshole demeanor has made it clear. My money is more important than your issues and hardships. Fuck your troubles.
I care about way less so I’m stressed way less
I honestly believe the less you care about the better off you are. Andre from 3rd street got shot 8 times last night and died. I don’t care; people die all the time, and I don’t personally know Andre. Kim sits at her desk all day talking on the phone, while playing Words with Friends and doesn’t do any work. Big fucking deal; Kim doesn’t work for me, and her paycheck doesn’t come out of my bank account. Casey Anthony beat the murder beef. She was judged by a jury (12 grown ass men and women) that knew a shitload more about the case than I do, and real talk, whatever happened between her and that child is now between her and God.
No unwanted company
I never get the “You in the house… Cool, I’m around the corner I’m about to swing thru” call. I have about 40 bottles of top shelf alcohol, 36 of which haven’t even been opened; my spot is just a happy hour waiting to happen. If I were a nice guy, my apartment would be the pregame spot before the club; folks would slide thru and leave me with empty bottles and a sink full of cups. Shit, if I knew a nice guy with a stocked bar, I’d probably visit twice a week just off of general principal.
I get away with a lot of shit
When I get drunk, I feel women up, and I mean borderline rape… hands going under bras and under skirts type feel up. Check pictures from my 30th birthday happy hour if you think I’m bluffing. For some strange reason, I haven’t been arrested, smacked, or stopped by my friends who were looking on. This may happen because I’m good looking, but let’s just stick with the asshole trend. I insult people within earshot. I talk shit to my bosses. I speak well above a whisper in libraries. I plank on sick people in hospital beds. I ride solo in HOV lanes. I take candy from babies. Ok, a few of these things I don’t do, but if I did people would just brush it off and say the same thing they say when I do the asshole-ish things I do now, “That’s Jean; he’s an asshole.”
People expect less of me
It may sound like a bad thing, but it’s actually really liberating. Your birthday dinner starts at 6pm sharp; I’ll show up at 7:30, and then just eat some of what you’re having, but you’ll just be glad I actually showed up. Ms. New Pussy never expects a real date from me. My idea of courting is a couple emails back and forth during the day about whose house we’re fucking at that night. I break all the rules and never get punished.
Of course, there are more perks, but I’ll save all that for another blog.
Jean DeGrate is an asshole
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