October 15, 2010
Hmmm. How do I say this. He's a few sandwiches short of a picnic, if you know what I mean. His suggestions never make sense. His reasoning seems cloudy. And, he gets mad when I use "big words" that he says he doesn't understand. I look into his eyes and it seems like the lights are on, but no one's home.
I can overlook these things because he wears cool jeans and has nice hair, but then I think about what would happen if, god forbid, I were to get pregnant by him. That's when I realized that I couldn't risk it because our kids would make Ralph Wiggum look like Aristotle. They'd be the kids in the back of the classroom eating paste and drooling, decked out in helmets and child leashes. The thought of my gene pool swirling with his makes me terrified for humanity's future. I feel like this is some sort of Terminator plotline waiting to happen.
This isn't a random guy or a snap decision; I've known him since high school. And, he was kinda stupid in high school too. I'm not elitist and I don't care the he's not academically inclined, but I can't ignore it at the same time. Nope. Best to just step away and turn him down. It's for the best.