PSFU Request: Stage 5 Clingers

There are dozens of unattractive qualities that us mere mortals possess, including those that are bred deep in the under belly of insecurity. Clingerism is one, fortunately a curable one if you practice as I preach. Start every morning with a hearty breakfast and a bushel of high fives in the mirror… Repeat the last step as you peruse your short list of life accomplishments, including not dying in your sleep and such. 

As a member of the vagina subset of gender classification, you may think it’s ironic that I have a distaste for clingers. But contrary to popular belief, even females would prefer if you left your saran wrap likeness at the door…please? If I am busy, I am busy and no amount of whiney coercion can clear my schedule. Please stave off your incessant texting if I just met you 25 minutes ago, it leaves me with the impression you will show up at my door with a scalpel and duct tape so you can fashion a mask out of my face. 

If we go out on a date, we are not officially official the next day. We are not mayflies; don’t rush it, compadre. The latter is unsettling as well, if you don’t call for 3 weeks I will forget you exist. Let’s just find a happy medium between 1-504 hours, shall we?

I understand it’s tough, as the promptings in your scrotum lead you down the path of being a clingy motherfucker, but I advise you to seek solace in a bottle of KY and a hanky. 

I understand there are multiple ways to reach the victims of your unflinching relentlessness, but I personally don’t enjoy the communication channel gang bang when you text, fb message and call me. 

I realize this post will likely scare everyone away, thereby leaving me alone to die in subleased apartment with 100 cats I’m allergic to. So it goes..

But heed my fair advice ladies and gents, desperation is not very attractive. You don’t have to abide by specific dating rules my MTV-generationers, just try not to be a creep.