Thursday, May 8, 2008

Factory Reject

So okay maybe I overestimated my ability to deal with rejection a teeny tiny bit. This is not the way I feel when I don’t get the part I was auditioning for. This feels a little more like the time I mistakenly rubbed a certain “sensitive” area with deep heat after a groin injury. A persistent and most inconvenient sensation I would not recommend. He’s just not that into me. If I am a serving of grated beetroot on a Spur salad buffet then he has not chosen me for his side plate. Beetroot often gets rejected because it makes everything else on your plate go a bright pinkish red and God forbid, everything on your plate should become a shade of pink. Come to think of it beetroot is one of the gayest roots I can imagine with carrots coming a close second (because of their phallic nature.)
My last rejection was more like a funky shoe that gets bought, worn a while, and then returned because it “didn’t fit properly”. We all know how tough it is to sell worn shoes! This guy didn’t even want to try my shoe on! Maybe I wasn’t Nike or Reebok enough for him. Maybe if I was more Adidas and less Ug boot then I would be wrapped around his souls right now. But, it looks like I’m not going to be sharing a morning pot of tea with him anytime soon. Was it my teeth? They are a bit skew. Maybe my hair was too long or he doesn’t like my brand of deodorant. Maybe he was intimidated by my talent and good looks and was afraid of living in the shadow of my inevitable and impending fame. Why is it that he doesn’t subscribe to my magazine when I would gag to lick every page of his?
What frustrates me most is that I now have no one to sigh and get glassy eyed over anymore. I spent the afternoon roaming the waterfront hoping to find someone new to develop a crush on, someone, who might take the bait, someone who might say “yes”, this time. I even hovered around the gay section of exclusive books but I soon felt like I was the only accidental visitor to a rather perverted retirement home. I love old people but they shouldn’t think that age permits them frisking rights on the young. So tonight I have been licking my wounds and contemplating sending him an sms containing only the word “poes”. But I decided against it. It’s not his fault I’m going to be famous.

1 comment:

  1. My friend, speaking like a true reject pro, it is the kakest feeling ever. He is obviously not what the Higher Power had in mind for you. Kismet will happen when you are not looking, it waits for you to turn away and THEN it will pounce on your back.