I am J-A-D-E-D, and boy do I know it

Okay. Here is the deal. I've got to get this off my chest, or I'll never be nice to a member of the opposite sex again for the rest of my life.

Men, you’re all terrible. I really don’t think anyone can tell me anything different right now to change my mind. Try me, I dare you.

Yes, I am jaded. In the worst way. You have no idea. And I am jaded because MEN give me all the more reason to be every single time I meet one. I truly belive that I am an a**hole magnet. It’s written on my forehead in bright tacky neon pink. If you’re going to piss me off, “Hi, my name is Melissa. SO glad that we met.”

In the past, say, 8 months, I’ve made up for the last four years of being in a relationship and “missing out” on the joys of dating. I’ve met a handful (if there were just one more it would be too many) of men. (Let me rephrase that to "guys" -- I have yet to meet a “man.”) And each one of them was a stepping stone to the top of “jaded” mountain. Each and every one made the next step just that much easier.


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