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Whenever a hot girl is in a relationship, there’s a bunch of dudes and “platonic friends” just waiting on the wing. The moment a girl leaves a relationship, she can’t even leave the house without getting dozens of dicks tossed at her. It’s like a severe dickstorm. Remember that shitty disaster movie The Day After Tomorrow? It’s like that, except with cocks and better cinematography (but for some reason Jake Gyllenhaal is still involved). There’s a cornucopia of corny horndogs waiting for a chick’s relationship status to change from “in a relationship” to “single” on Facebook so they can get in line to try to stuff her like the Thanksgiving turkey owned by a guy who likes to fuck cooked poultry.
That’s gotta be hell. I mean, breakups are already difficult and complicated in their own ways, but now this chick can’t leave the house without an umbrella to shield herself from flying hogs? Heartbreaking. Even if they wanna ruffle the sheets with these dudes, it’s logistically impossible to keep up with everything. With all the guys sliding into their DMs, the trillions of thirsty Facebook messages, corny pickup lines on tinder, and an art museum gallery’s worth of unflattering dick pics being sent to them until their phone explodes in their pockets… It’s just too many guys, not enough time.
So let’s look at it this way. When you’ve got a thing for a girl that’s already dating someone, it’s like you’re sitting in a waiting room. You’re just chilling, yawning and impatiently checking the watch on your left wrist while jerking it with your right hand. You’re killing time, scrolling through Facebook and Twitter, reading Time Magazine, googling “is Bruno Mars taller than 5’0″?” (Nobody knows; even Google just shrugs when you ask). You’re in a plain beige room sitting around with a bunch of other thirsty douchebuckets, waiting until her goddamn boyfriend leaves her office.
So, if we take my terrible, poorly-thought-out, corny-as-fuck waiting room analogy a step further, it leads us to this inevitable conclusion, and a perfect solution to this dickish douchebox dilemma: Every newly single female needs to have a secretary.
Think about it. They could hire secretaries to help get all their guy BS thoroughly organized and make life just a teeny tiny bit easier. If you wanna ask this girl out, you gotta go through her secretary first. It would have its own system. And sure, this secretary will cause tens, if not hundreds of painful cockblocks, but that girl wasn’t gonna hang out with you anyway so it doesn’t matter. It’s a necessary evil.
The situation would be a lot like a normal secretary scenario.
Guy: “Hi, I have an appointment at 5:30?”
Guy: “Brian Johnson.”
Secretary: “Hmmmm…. Sorry, I don’t see you here. I have a note that says you’re ineligible because you post douchey gym selfies and your Facebook profile picture is a truck.”
Guy: “Damn. Can I at least TRY to set up an appointment?”
Secretary: “I’ll check. What’s your insurance?”
Secretary: “Sorry, she doesn’t take Cigna.”
Guy: “Can you just check one more time if my name is there? It might be under my rap name, “Lil Bry.”
Secretary: “Oh shit, you’re a white rapper too? Yeah, you need to go.”.
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