I am trying to momentarily forget the whole Flez issue. Instead, I am wondering if I should be basking in the sultry glow of my sexual prowess or raging in feminist indignation about the perversion of men.
When a guy tries to fuck you on the first date, is it because you are just an irresistibly fine piece of arse, or is it because desperation knows no limits? I opt for the latter. So James tried to fuck me on the first date. Even more surprising – I turned him down. That’s right, contrary to popular belief, (and popular demand, it seems) I am *not* a whore. I already have a reputation as a lesbian; I don’t want to get another one as the neighbourhood bicycle.
And here’s another question. It’s addressed to you men…
Why do you think no means eat me out first? It doesn’t. Look at me shaking my head. No.
Let’s assess James, shall we.
He’s tall +
But he’s kinda chunky –
He has *dramatic pause* a job +
But he works at night too – (So when the hell am I supposed to see him?)
He ain’t bad looking +
But he smokes –
He has a car +
In which he keeps a humongous stone with which he intends to throw at someone who had initially thrown it at him, but was unfortunate enough to miss (did you catch all of that? Violence is not the answer) –
So It kinda evens out.
He kept on telling me how much he liked me during the date, but that could have been his erection talking.
I actually kinda like the guy, but that could be the desperation talking.
Anyways, that was a week ago. Since then, he has been quite lax about getting in touch with me. Whenever I call, he’s “busy”. It’s been over a fucking week, and so far he hasn’t contacted me unless I contacted him first. And this has me slightly confused because now I’m wondering why he kept repeating “I like you” like it was a fucking mantra that was preventing a comet from hitting our planet throughout the freaking date!
I am beginning to believe he was just looking for some poontang. When he didn’t get it, like the frustrated film director wheeling through his list of potential leading ladies, he yelled: “Next!”
Maybe I should stand up under a tree in Independence square and allow myself to be crapped on, because apparently, that’s supposed to be a blessing. I wonder what genius thought that shit up (I swear I didn’t type that pun on purpose.) Whoever he/she was is a genius because that is a brilliant way of getting out of the embarrassment of a bird mistaking your head for a latrine hole.
“I’ve been blessed!”
And behold, the people fell upon their knees and prayed.
Maybe if I pray hard enough, a good man would give me the time of day… Oh shit, wait. I don’t believe in God. Now I’m fucked. Well… now I’m celibate.
Life was easier when I was a lesbian.