It’s that magical time of night. I’ve been drinking, you’ve been drinking, and the conversation has been flowing as freely as the alcohol. As far as you’re concerned, this can go only one of two places: your apartment or mine. Sorry, but I’m not going there — here’s why:
- I don’t have to. I can be wearing the tightest, shortest, most revealing dress in the world and I still don’t owe you anything. I can talk to you for hours, accept any drinks offered and even make out with you and I STILL don’t owe you anything. Call it being a flirt or leading you on, but if you don’t understand that I ALWAYS have the final say no matter what’s happened earlier, you’re an idiot and I’m obviously not going to sleep with you.
- I want to see where this can go, other than your bed. Perhaps it’s naive to even think this way anymore, but maybe I’m interested in some actual romance. Hell, I’d take just a plain old “getting to know you” date that we obviously wouldn’t call a date. After all the talking we’ve done, I would have loved for you to ask for my number to indicate that you’d like to see this thing, whatever it is, last more than one night. But all you seem to care about is tonight and that makes it pretty clear we’re not on the same page.
- You don’t even remember my name. If you can’t be bothered to pay even the most basic attention to the person sitting in front of you, I can only imagine what your priorities are in bed. If you don’t care who I am, you probably don’t care what I want, and when it comes to sex, I don’t waste my time on selfish guys who swap girls in and out without a single thought of how it is for them.
- I’m not physically attracted to you. Harsh, but sometimes true. It’s getting towards the end of the night. I know you’ll be popping the question, but I’ve slowly started to realize that I just have no desire to sleep with you. It doesn’t mean that I haven’t liked talking to you, but I’m guessing that won’t be much of a consolation. Unfortunately, if the idea of ripping your clothes off doesn’t evoke any animal instinct in me, it’s not gonna happen.
- Dealbreaker, baby. This one could be any number of things, and everyone has their own. Maybe you’re a Donald Trump supporter, maybe you want kids, maybe you don’t have any alcohol at your apartment. Once it’s been established that you check off one of my dealbreaker qualities, though, Gandalf may as well be standing in front of my vagina shouting, “You shall not pass!”
- Your eyes have been wandering the bar. It’s both unflattering and annoying to have you looking for a back-up while you’re chatting me up. If you’re looking for a better option, go ahead and try to find them. You’ve already blown it over here.
- You’re too drunk. Yes, I can tell. Even if you can’t remember how many times you’ve said, “You’re gonna go home with me,” I probably can and it’s not cute. Neither is you spilling drinks, snapping your fingers at the bartenders or vomiting. Some people in movies may recover from embarrassing barfing episodes, but your chances have dropped into the negatives with me if anything has been spewed from your mouth tonight.
- I’m too drunk. If I think I’m too impaired, physically or mentally, to be making the decision to sleep with someone, you probably shouldn’t be asking anyway. Me deciding I don’t feel safe going home with a stranger in my current state doesn’t make me a “bitch,” it makes me a responsible(ish) adult.
- I already got what I wanted. Depending on my mood, maybe all I wanted tonight was for someone to compliment me, maybe buy me a couple of drinks and then to go home to my own apartment, get in my PJs and continue my marathon of The Office. Just because your permanent end goal is getting laid doesn’t mean it’s mine. It’s not my fault our needs don’t happen to align tonight. Besides, do you really think that you’re more of a catch than Jim Halpert?
