He's Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys
Hello, butts, and welcome to the greatest thing ever to happen to you: I, Chelsea Dagger, sweat-er extraordinaire, champion of wildly inadvisable conversation-starters, virtuoso of failure, am going to teach you how to date. I know what you're thinking: this is a terrible idea. AND YOU'RE RIGHT. But fortunately for you, and humanity at large, I've got help: I'm using the controversial best-seller He's Just Not That Into You as my guide. For the next few weeks, I'll be blogging the book and giving my own (undoubtedly wrong) take on the topics it covers—plus, I'll throw in some truly horrifying personal anecdotes to sweeten the deal. It's going to be like winning the lottery, your birthday, and Christmas all rolled into one gloriously sloppy Dagger burrito, served up lukewarm with a garnish of incomprehensible Lord of the Rings references and a heaping side dish of my dry, racking sobs. DE-LICIOUS.
Now, you may be wondering WHY I've decided to blog this book, and the answer is simple: I want boys to like me. (Will I violently regret writing that statement on the internets? ALMOST DEFINITELY.) Yep, I want to somehow force an adorable, funny dude to take me on hamburger dates and tell me my hair smells nice (even though it really has the distinct odor of burnt oatmeal) and send me texts that say "You make me so happy I could barf." I want him to be so completely enamored with me that our affection literally repulses everyone around us like a giant backward magnet, and I want us to hold hands forever and ever, except between 8:03 AM-9:17 PM Mondays-Fridays, because that is when my hands are sweatiest. HOWEVER, I have no idea how to make that happen (extortion and magic have failed me thus far)—and that's where this series comes in.
Since my attempts at dating, flirting, and relationship-ing, have, with a few exceptions, been a lot like the Vietnam War (totes messy bummer-fests), I figured I should turn to the professionals. And since I know I'm not the only SparkLifer out there who finds dealing with the opposite sex as tricky as doing Parkour while wearing glass pants, I thought we could embark on this quest together. It'll be great: we'll be like a giant fellowship of confused, date-less hobbits, learning which of our crushes deserve to get smacked with a solid "YOU SHALL NOT PASS", and which ones will be lucky enough to sprint across the rickety bridge of Khazha-dum and straight into our hearts. (Shizz is gettin' geeky up in here!) Some of us will die along the way, and some of us will be corrupted by power, and some of us will be tiny bearded dwarves who will never, ever find love—but the rest of us will come out smarter and foxier than ever (except for Frodo, who will be but a weary shell of the halfling he once was).
I expect to see each and every one of your shining faces back here next week (that means you too, Manklers! YOU ARE A PART OF THIS FELLOWSHIP, DAMMIT!) for my first official post—I'll bring the mattress-sized bag of popcorn, but y'all are in charge of the tater tots and the bean bags. Get on it.
Are you SO EXCITED for this series? Does your answer to that question have the potential to validate Chelsea Dagger's very EXISTENCE? Does the opposite sex confuse the bejeesus out of you? FANTASTIC.
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