You're Fat, You're Ugly, and I Just Don't Like You

I would love it, absolutely love it if a guy would actually say this to me.
I mean, I probably wouldn't love it, because no one wants to be called fat and ugly. And I don't really think I'm fat and ugly. I got some thickness to me, but it's good thickness, and while I don't look like Charlize Theron, I can look decent if I try hard enough.

But if a guy was actually truthful, I might give him $20. I might even thank him for his honesty.

My friend and I are in agreement that it would be much, much easier for guys to tell us, "you're fat, you're ugly and I just don't like you," rather than to wonder endlessly what the hell they are thinking in their warped little heads when they're not thinking about food, sex, beer and football.

In the end, we really just want to know. I would have much, much more respect for someone who could tell me the truth than someone who throws me a bone once in awhile, or doesn't want to hurt my feelings.

You know, I'm a big girl (in more ways than one). They don't have to worry about making me cry or making me feel bad. I can handle it. And honestly, even if my heart gets a little broken or I get a little sad, I know life goes on, and I will move on, too. It's ok, really.

Most women just really want to know. You're not doing women-kind justice by dilly-dallying around.

So, gentlemen, just tell us. Tell us the truth. Don't sugarcoat it. Don't think you're being nice by not telling the truth, because in the end, you're being less nice.
Just tell me.
Tell me I'm fat.
Tell me I'm ugly.
Tell me I'm weird.
Tell me I'm not funny.
Tell me you're "just not that into me."

I can take it.