-To me, being single is like having diplomatic immunity. I come and go as I please. I answer to no authority. And if accused of lewd behavior, I can just claim ignorance: “Sorry, I’m not from around here and don’t understand this concept you call dating.” My status as a bachelor is particularly significant at the moment because I’m back in New York City for the week and I just realized that virtually every last one of my buddies has a girlfriend. It seems as if the only remaining holdouts are Triplet #2, who moved to London, and Shermdog, who is currently visiting said Triplet. How did it come to this? I’m alone. My wingmen have all been picked off. It’s me against the world. Shit…I’ve been singled out.
-I find it annoying that girls physically have trouble admitting that they’re single. Ask a girl if she’s single and she’ll invariably stammer, glance at her girl friends, giggle, mention something about some guy in Chicago she’s “sorta seeing,” and then finally confess she’s unattached. On the other hand, ask me if I’m single and I’ll be like, “Absolutely! Why, did a chick want to know? Where is she? I’ve never been more single in my life than right now!” and my belt’s already halfway off.
-If you’re a girl in a bar who has a boyfriend, instead of “hello,” I think the first word out of your mouth should be required by law to be…“boyfriend.”
-My cell phone number happens to be comprised of multiple variations of the numbers “6” and “9.” When I give it to chicks, they look at me like I’m a dirty bastard. Some guys get a bad reputation from sleeping around. I got mine from T-Mobile.
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