boys boys boys

like the horridly accurate miss gaga song implies, we love boys (we love them, we love them)
this insignificant song, which will always remain as a speckle on my music globe, says so much about us, the gals. this stereotypical view that women, if you will, fawn over these quote 'boys in cars, boys with hairspray and denim' unquote is silly and somewhat foolish. why, i begin to ask myself, why should we. the majority of them are shallow egocentric guys who think with their "pride*". suuure they, them, are tremendously well-jaw-lined and possess that supposed essential element of deck, but truthfully, who cares.
but unfortunately, it is for this reason, and usually, this reason only, that we dream. we dream for them; to see us through crowed thoughts and ideas and choose us. that hipster in the corner who has so much ease and esteem that, in your mind, an ebbing glow surrounds him in a one metre radius to which you long to be included in.
in this dreamy state, you try to appeal to his nature, to be deck and swell, so maybe, just maybe your eyes will meet. sounds like a crap Disney movie. all you need is for him to whisk you off your feet onto horseback! this delusion may equate to offering you a lift (to which of course you say yes!) where you open your own door and listen to his crap-ass music as he speeds through the town. oooh a show off. wait im not impressed, you shit head.
burst the bubble? boys boys boys are stoopid.


*pride. i think you can guess. hint: male organ