So if you're a reader of this humble little blog you've learned that I prefer dirty musician types of men. It's odd, I'm aware. The clean cut, pastel polo, over grown comb-over does nothing for me. With that said...sometimes we make mistakes.
With this past weeks transgressions I have realized two things are for certain. One, I do not like "bros." Two, I am a "bro." Fuck.
I took a liking to a bro but as a true bro.. once he realized I was returning his flirtiness and had some form of an interest..he pulled back. He started flirting with other girls and would come back to me with some version of "she won't leave me alone" bullshit story. Now.. here is where I realized I am a bro, rather than show my disdain for his behavior (which I still might have, okay I did) I took it a step further. I kept up my flirt game and gave him hope of something more. He and I (along with a group of friends) were all staying together for the weekend so he thought he might get lucky..he thought wrong.
I did a lot of teasing. The night ended very painful and blue for him. I slept like a baby.
That is how you teach a bro a lesson.
Sam-1, Bros -0
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