I wouldn't say I'm uptight.
I'm very polite around people, especially when I'm visiting others.
I don't demand things from others, ever. I'll drink tap water if that's all they have... I'll sleep on wooden floors if that's the only spot available.
I have no problem with getting dirty and playing around... I've ripped plenty of shoes and pants running around being an immature 20-something year old.
I put up with guys being guys... and sometimes even participate.
I feel I'm very chill and easy going.
However, I guess I get "uptight" when it comes to... dealing with the opposite sex in a "romantic" sense.
I don't know how to put it. I'm just awkward and rarely interested in interacting with them... in that sense.
I don't care for hooking up, and I don't care to be "checked out." It makes me uncomfortable.
This of course, pisses off most of my friends, at least the ones looking for a guy.
It takes a minute to convince me to go to a club or some Mexican dance... shit, it takes people various days to convince me to go to a wedding. Once I get to the club/dance/wedding, I'd be lying if I said I was calm and relaxed. I will be the first to admit I have the worst stink-face around when placed in those situations.
This happened today.
My LA friend is in town, and I promised her I'd hang out. She wanted to go out since yesterday, but I was at the wedding and not in the mood to go guy-fishing afterward. I promised her I'd hang out today, after I was done with my day.
At around 4 in the afternoon, she texted me the plan:
F says we're going to JET tonight. You down?
Eh... ppl there are ghetto. Sorry.Bam. She was pissed.
No need to be so uptight, AnoMALIEBam. I was pissed.
Let me explain myself:
So maybe not everyone at JET is ghetto... but my experience with the club is not too fantastic.
That club tends to attract a certain type... let's put it that way. The guys aren't my type, but it appears I'm their type.
Guys that I have bumped into at JET? Hip-hop lovers that have some sort of record deal "in the works," sneaker-heads who care way too much about their damn shoes, and guys who have developed their own English-butchering jargon. However, somehow, all these guys coincide in their insistence to refer to girls as "Ma."
Lucky me, when they see me, if they don't grab my ass or press their crotch against my ass when I walk past them... they'll look down at my tits while licking their lips and say those godforsaken words.
What up, Ma?Baaaaaarf! Are you kidding me?
First off, quit licking your fucking lips! That shit gets them chapped!
Second, while it may appear my tits can feed a kid or two... I doubt they can sustain a grown adult-- they shouldn't look tasty AT ALL... if they do, you better look into that shit, you may just be a cannibal.
Third: my ass is attached to me... I'm sure it ain't going nowhere for now (their wonderful English skill is contagious), you don't have to hold it for me... EVER.
And last: the feel of your hardened dick against my ass does NOTHING for me. I'm cold and unfeeling. Don't believe me? I'm a 25-year-old Vegas-native virgin... it's safe to assume I'm not easily swept away by desire.
I'm a hispanic girl with big boobs and somewhat of an ass (I don't boast about it because far too many of my acquaintances have enormous asses that make me look completely flat-assed). I hang out with chicks that leave very little to the imagination... and come on, let's not fool ourselves, Latinas don't have the best reputation for being chaste little girls... far too many of them have a baby before they even graduate high school.
I can't really blame the guys at JET for being... well... guys at JET. Just like I assume they're going to press up against me and breathe down my neck the moment space become limited, they assume I'm a horny Latina dying to pop out a Jr.
So I choose NOT to put myself in the situation in the first place... I'm not going to be the uptight bitch at the club... because I won't even be at that club.
Other girls may enjoy the attention... may need the action... but I don't.
LA girl is not too happy with this logic.
She wants to drink. She wants to feel guys with raging hard-ons press up against her while she shakes it to some horrible hip-hop at the club.
I. DON'T.
Hence, I am uptight.
Boo-hoo. Woe is me. How ever will I live?
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