Red Velvet: You lure men in with your exotic features and unique appearance. You probably have at least one tattoo you designed yourself, and perhaps a cutesy hairbow affixed to the part of your hair that isn’t artistically shaved. Yet when they get you home they find grannie panties and several framed pictures of your cat. You also have an extensive, neatly-cataloged collection of scrapbooking notions. Also, you know they are called “scrapbooking notions.” Perhaps your next tatt should be a tramp stamp that scrawls, in dainty cursive, “bonerkiller.”
Birthday Cake w/ Sprinkles: Some men actually do love you because you are the innocent “marrying type” that you can “bring home to mom.” You just have the huge challenge of overcoming your worldly naivete, idealism and general cutesiness enough to actually relate to a man. Remember, don’t let him see your John Mayer CD or your Netflix cue full of episodes of “One Tree Hill,” or else he might figure out you’re kind of boring.
Boston Cream: You are an asshole.
Pumpkin: You need very little stimulus to be happy, and thus like to gossip (in a slow-talking manner) about the microcosm of your own friends, none of whom have Melrose Place-level drama anyway. This bores all men around you, who wish you would just take a hit while you watched football with his friends instead of sitting their embroidering your favorite bumper sticker saying.
Artsy Cupcake w/ Bacon Bits: You put out too easily via making your personal brand a “modern, experimental woman, open to liberated sexual experiences.” It’s cool that you so guiltlessly enjoy sex, but it weirded out your Boo when you took ecstasy and asked if he and his old camp counselor who showed up at the bar wanted to London Bridge you. Also, the fact that you have aroma-therapeutic pillow spray makes you seem fussy and bored.
Lemon: You have never actually spoken to a man in your entire life. Not even the guy behind the counter at Walgreens or the pastor your family has known for decades. You communicate with your father through your mom. When you hit your late twenties and your friends finally start forcing you to go on dates, you require two female chaperones to flank you and your face becomes so red your date wonders if you have a fever. You’ll be lucky if you can find another equally tragic introvert to share a retirement condo in Florida with.
Photo by tarale