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I’m Sick Of Being Held Phone Hostage

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You’re hanging out with your buddy, having a good time, when his girlfriend calls him. Regretfully, he answers. You expect it to only take a second but it drags on. Next thing you know it’s been an hour and she won’t let him off the phone. I am that friend and that girl is any one of my many very reasonable exes.

If one more woman holds me what I like to call “phone hostage,” I will do nothing. Hence the word hostage. I am rendered powerless by any girl with an iPhone and a reliable charging cord.

It is an act that some of my more sane former girlfriends (so all of them) have been accustomed to. They get off on occupying my time from afar. Listen, I know how this looks. I probably come off looking like a huge pussy but some days I am just too tired to stand up and be a man. That and when you combine below average looks with a trash personality, I’m not in the position to be turning away any woman. 

For those unfamiliar, basically whenever we are apart for more than 3.6 seconds, these gremlins will say something like, “miss you,” or “wanna make sure you’re not with that slut Tiffany.” So wanting to avoid any potential freeze-out from getting laid, I hop on the phone with them to hear about their day and how they hate sluts like Tiffany. The problem is that these psychos refuse to let me off no matter the excuse. My grandmother is better at taking a hint and she’s legit senile.

Now, there are two variations of this: standard phone calls and through FaceTime. The latter is much worse. It’s one thing to fake paying attention over the phone when I can’t be seen. But when my lack of interest is visible, I’m fucked. Then they just get even more fed up with me and I still don’t get laid. No man on this earth can handle that task. Focusing on what you have to say for more than five seconds when we’re in the same room is impossible enough. Ladies, you’re asking way too much.

The crazy thing is that women try to masquerade this assault on my free time as some kind of fucked up way of showing how much they care. Nobody misses anybody that much. Especially me. Like I said, the only department I’m lacking in more than my looks is the intangibles. Anyone who has met me knows that there are definitely times when you could use a break. I’m humble enough to admit that. So don’t even try that excuse, because I know it’s bullshit. 

I just can’t keep going on like this. At this point, my manhood is so battered that I don’t know where to go from here. Do I declare #teamsingle for life? Will that help me not be such a whipped beta? Or do I forge on hoping that the next girl won’t be such a psycho? Gotta keep swinging, right? If I ever want to spread my seed (on purpose), I’m going to have to get wifed up eventually. I just have to learn to two things. One, I’ve got to stand up and fight, fight for my right to be left the fuck alone every once in a while. Secondly, I should look into the women I keep company with. These basic white girls are too much.

Image via Shutterstock

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Dent

Washed Up Former Athlete.
Totally over my ex-girlfriend.
I hold the distinct honor of being the only player in my school’s history to receive a football scholarship without being able to bench 225 lbs.

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