You can avoid eye-contact. You can turn a cold shoulder and solidly hinged elbow. You can maintain an unwavering tone of disinterest. You can even throw an unabridged dictionary’s worth of intellect-ridden sarcasm over their heads.
But you can never escape them.
These are the LA Douchebags: The Real Men of Los Angeles* - and boy, do they have a way with words.
*Real as in reality, not ‘real men’ as in iterations of Jon Hamm
Random Man #1: I don’t believe in monogamy, but my wife doesn’t believe in polygamy.
Pretty sure she also doesn’t believe in you buying drinks for random girls at bars.
Random Man #2: Come sit over here.
Me: I’m fine right here, thanks.
Random Man #2: Your attitude problem only makes you that much more adorable.
Oh, I know.
Random Man #3: Where’s your new place?
Me: Beverly Hills
Random Man #3: That’s so not you! What are you doing living there?
Right. Because you’ve known me all of 3 and a half minutes. Thank you for your frank analysis. I should probably move now.
Random Man #4: You actually seem like a really cool chick. We’ll see if it’s for real.
Really?? You think so?! OMG I feel so much better about myself now. Thank you for validating my existence. I only hope I can continue to live up to your obviously discriminating taste slash superior expectations.
Random Man #5: You look like you’re a gift for me.
Oh, I get it. Because I’m wearing a bow around my neck. (I was - it’s a choker circa 1996.)
You are SO clever! Obviously, I have been waiting all night to gift myself to someone as charming and cavalier as yourself.
Don’t touch me.
I don’t feel safe anymore.