Annabella is an exotic beauty with gorgeous legs and impeccable fashion sense. She’s kind, caring, with enough fire to keep you guessing. She’s well-read, well-versed, has outside interests, loves the comfort of a relationship but always maintains her individuality.
So why can’t she get a decent man in this town?
We craft a chart of her conquests over the past two years. There have been rich businessmen, bankers, hipsters, musicians, all. They have been young, they have been old, they have been Chelsea, Upper West, Brooklyn. They have nothing in common but for the fact that they have lost her.
Anabella’s sex appeal is unmatched to just about every male she meets. Many have ditched relationships to be with their ideal, an insatiable vixen. That is, until she wants to eat take-out on a Sunday night and watch “Drawn Together”. All of a sudden she’s clingy, needy, un-sexy, just because she wants to give the thong a rest once a week. And Sunday is a day of rest. (Please guys, for at least some things. You’ve no idea the torture of a thong, heels, tight jeans, dangling earrings, nightly skin regimen, hair removal, and salad.) Maybe Annabella has been meeting the wrong men, but how can one ever tell until it’s too late?
Annabella tries abstinence from kisses and alcohol. She avoids touching them so she won’t be shattering their minx-y illusions, just smiles and nibbles small plates at dinner, perhaps offering up a peck on the cheek at the end of the evening for thanks. She sips maybe one glass of wine and cracks non-offensive jokes. They lose their interest. So to the boys, Annabella is too Madonna when they want whore. She flips it, and suddenly they can’t see themselves settling down with her because she’s too masculine with her emotions. She says it’s just about the sex, so they treat her like a prostitute. She tells them that she doesn’t want a relationship; they want one. She tells them that she does; they run for the hills.
So now she’s looking elsewhere and may have found “it” with a country-club-boy-turned-scientist who’s in grad school, many, many states over. Men of New York, how could you let this one get away?
So why can’t she get a decent man in this town?
We craft a chart of her conquests over the past two years. There have been rich businessmen, bankers, hipsters, musicians, all. They have been young, they have been old, they have been Chelsea, Upper West, Brooklyn. They have nothing in common but for the fact that they have lost her.
Anabella’s sex appeal is unmatched to just about every male she meets. Many have ditched relationships to be with their ideal, an insatiable vixen. That is, until she wants to eat take-out on a Sunday night and watch “Drawn Together”. All of a sudden she’s clingy, needy, un-sexy, just because she wants to give the thong a rest once a week. And Sunday is a day of rest. (Please guys, for at least some things. You’ve no idea the torture of a thong, heels, tight jeans, dangling earrings, nightly skin regimen, hair removal, and salad.) Maybe Annabella has been meeting the wrong men, but how can one ever tell until it’s too late?
Annabella tries abstinence from kisses and alcohol. She avoids touching them so she won’t be shattering their minx-y illusions, just smiles and nibbles small plates at dinner, perhaps offering up a peck on the cheek at the end of the evening for thanks. She sips maybe one glass of wine and cracks non-offensive jokes. They lose their interest. So to the boys, Annabella is too Madonna when they want whore. She flips it, and suddenly they can’t see themselves settling down with her because she’s too masculine with her emotions. She says it’s just about the sex, so they treat her like a prostitute. She tells them that she doesn’t want a relationship; they want one. She tells them that she does; they run for the hills.
So now she’s looking elsewhere and may have found “it” with a country-club-boy-turned-scientist who’s in grad school, many, many states over. Men of New York, how could you let this one get away?
1 comment:
ahh, yes... just how many "annabella's" are out there on the island of manhattan? too many to count. these boys don't know their nose from their face.
like this entry--very universal.
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