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Are you a loser, aged 37-50? Are you a lonely, pathetic schlub who can't get any closer to a woman than a 900 number? Do you despair of having a woman speak to you respectfully, let alone date you or touch you? Well, sugar, it's your lucky night. Because a respectable, clean, intelligent, independent, witty, financially secure woman who is fed up with trying to get the attention of respectable, clean, intelligent, independent, witty, financially secure men will seriously consider your offer. Pretty boys, frat brats, software millionaires, endlessly self-promoting Micronerds, salsa-dancing midlife-crisis-clinic navel-gazers, self-obsessed Mountaineers, Dockers-clad Boeing bores, aging hipsters who masturbate to their own blogs...step off, back of the yellow line! Make way for the humble, the beer-gutted, the morbidly obese, the mulleted, the untouchable, the harijans, the rejected! You are my kind of men; you, the repulsive, the socially retarded, are my brothers from another mother.
Don't tell Suze Orman, but this 38-year-old fat chick is putting herself on sale. That's right! In this special offer, I'm lowering my standards to the floor. Apparently, because I'm fat (see picture below), I'm not worth even a polite response from men, let alone a date. I've tried and TRIED to get the attention of men who are my social peers, men I know from work, men I see at church, men with whom I attended school. No dice! Silly moi, thinking I'm good enough for the men I'm surrounded by every day -- when in fact, they deserve lingerie models or mail-order brides who are half their ages. Hey, I just got rejected (by non-response followed by avoidance, no less) by a fat, clumsy slob who comes to work looking like he sleeps in his clothes...but I guess because he's got a job, he's out of my league, and deserves his very own Victoria's Secret catalog model. Oh, the poor thing, having the office fat chick e-mail him! How perfectly dreadful! He must have been so embarrassed.
So I'm moving on...down. Bitter, party of one, your table is SERIOUSLY ready. Nice guys, guys without criminal records, guys without drug habits, guys who read, guys who don't live with their mothers -- yes, all TOO GOOD for me! Come and get it, all ye desperate and lonely, ye self-destructive and miserable, ye of rock-bottom self-esteem. My only criteria:
That's it! Come to mama, all ye who can't get a date, all ye who would settle for a relationship with any woman who isn't incarcerated, all ye who would be so grateful for some female companionship that you're willing to overlook the fact that your partner weighs 190 lbs. Tell me why women won't even treat you like a human being with feelings. Really, I want to read this. Because I know what it's like. I know what it's like to be a vibrant, vivid, engaging, intelligent person who gets treated like a f*cking piece of vermin-infested furniture because she's overweight.
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