The un-MEN-tionable

I got a big ol bone to pick, y'all. I'm as fed up as a bear in summer, and I'm so wool-gatherin angry, I could just throw a hissy fit right this very minute!
Ugh.
Now, let me just start off by saying that I'm a very nice person in general, I mean I try my best to give people directions, and I swipe people in at late night, and I even recycle most of the time. So, this leads me to believe that karma is a thing that does not exist in the world, nor does any conception of justice, for how else could such a bright, upstanding citizen like me constantly be getting the short end of the stick in the one walk of life that shouldn't be an issue? In other words, why the flaming flapdoodle do boys keep developing crushes on me? It got real old real fast when it first started happening, and it's even older now. I mean, come on now, fellas, get your collective act together. There are illimitably many pretty lasses in the world, none of whom are me, and they might be a tick more flattered by your amorous intentions than this grumpy old scouser. Give it a try! Or maybe actually don't, because some of y'all are quite irritating, and I wouldn't want to burden any other woman with the nuisance of dealing with all that.
Dear me, you may be saying to yourself, this girl has quite an ego problem! And I don't blame you for that. Read out of context, this post might indeed hint at a bit of megalomania on my part, and it would not be amiss for you to call it out, if it were unsubstantiated by anything but the most empirical evidence. However, you can save yourself the bother of creating a scathing and witty rebuttal of my claim, because that empirical evidence, I do have. Listen to my sad tale and weep, oh children of doubt.
There is a young man in my hall, whom I will not name, but will refer to as Darnay, partially because of his irritatingly bland nature, and partially because it includes the word "darn," and I'll be darned if I go out with him. Anyway! So Darnay is in Irene's physics class, and for this reason, when he sees us together, he will say hi. This is all fine and dandy, I mean I'm not such a misanthrope as to disapprove of a friendly greeting or two, but unfortunately, Darnay did not leave it at that. Oh no, not him. Not only did he ask Irene about me many times, thus betraying one of his many irritating traits of unencouraged persistence, but he actually had the temerity to track me down when I was all by my lonesome, vainly looking for a lounge from which I was eight floors away, and getting my number! Well my dear, you might be saying, isn't it your own fault for giving it to him? Yes, it is true, I did make a mistake there. But I could not have possibly foretold the comedy of errors that would follow!
(Yes I could have; it's happened to me countless times before. But that's neither here nor there.)
So, without further ado, young Darnay began texting me with alarming alacrity. If only all realities of life could be governed by the cold splendor of science! But sadly, though the rate and time of his texting increased to an unreasonable degree, the distance between us failed to grow any bigger. In fact, I feel it closing in in an unpleasantly claustrophobic way. On the very first day he texted me, he asked me to dinner, in no uncertain terms. Make no bones about it, the pugnacious little pustule was asking me on a date. So I suggested breakfast instead, thinking that there was no possible way for him to screw that up. But oh, the folly of man! Not only did he spend the entire uncomfortable period staring deeply into my eyes and behaving like the most embarrassing of bad dates, he also made me late for my class, and gave me bad directions to boot. The only thing I can be grateful for is that no one saw us together. It is no wonder that after this debacle, I wouldn't want to go anywhere with him again, and I thought I made this abundantly obvious. But I hadn't accounted for his cursed tenacity. Not only does he continue to text me unabashedly, he also continues to ask me to things with him, all of which I turn down politely but firmly (despite his many protestations). In fact, not five minutes ago, I turned him down to go to a play tonight (which is unfortunate, because I sort of would like to see it, but there is no way I can now). This is simply a disaster! If only Cute Sean from semantics would pay me half this attention, now, that would be a different layer of the cake entirely. That boy is so charming, let me tell you. He could have dinner with me any day. But I fear our romance is not to be, not only because he is an adorkable nerd who can't tell that I'm flirting with him, but also because he seems to show a sad lack of dedication to the field of semantics, and really, that just puts a damper on matters. But what was I saying? Oh yes. Darnay is stressing me out to the extreme. It's going to give me the gout. How do I get rid of him politely? I fear there is no polite way. Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward! I fear there is no comfort for me.