And I didn't turn you down. You skulked away with your tail between your legs. There's a difference. It isn't always about you. You hear rejection everywhere. You don't pursue anything. You throw yourself a pity party instead. I'm me. I don't do poems or love stories. I like banter, and I like confidence, and I like sex. If you want me, you need to man up and stop acting like a girl about things. That's blunt, and sexist, but it's the truth. You can't go cry in a corner every time I'm me. And it has nothing to do with older men, since you decided to kick off this heart-to-heart with that pot shot. It has to do with someone strong. I'm not an easy woman to deal with. Why the fuck do you expect me to start being one now?