mama don't take no mess.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Will fuck for food



I haven’t been on a fucking date since ’nam. This is not entirely surprising, considering that men long ago realized that they do not have to buy women dinner and/or roofie their drinks in order to get laid. All a man has to do is walk up to a woman at a bar at just the right time — and not be completely repulsive — or invite himself to “hang out” — and not be completely repulsive. At this point, I feel like the only way I’m going to be taken out is if I stand on the corner alongside the transient who holds a sign that reads “savin for a hooker thankx,” with a sign that says “will fuck for food.”

Will I really fuck for food? Fuck yeah, why not? I’ve fucked for worse: validation; boredom; revenge; a beer. We all have motives for doing what we do, be it subconscious or obvious. I may as well be honest with myself… and you may as well be honest with yourself, as well. I deserve, you deserve, no we deserve some fucking red meat and engaging, intelligent conversation.

If you want me to put out, pay up. Stimulate my brain, and fill my belly, and then you can stimulate me elsewhere. Plus, shit, if you buy me a steak, you just may, and I stress may, get a blow job. I feel like $20 for a blow jay from a hot girl is more than reasonable. Either that or pay a disease ridden crack whore $50... or find a girl without standards… or be lucky enough to run into me when I’m drunk and with withering values.

Now, I don’t want you to feel like you could get in trouble with the law as a result of this arrangement. I’m not a hooker who accepts wine and food as payment (although I see the benefits of such a system). I’m just a woman who knows what she wants, and what she doesn’t want.

What I want is to be taken out. Get to know me; let’s figure out whether you find my presence too abrasive to stand before I throw you a bang. If history is any indication, chances are 50/50 you will either love me or hate me. What I don’t want is for you pursue me passively, or mack on me using social media sites. If you send me a message on Facebook with some corny/horny line, it isn’t going to get you shit from me. If I had a nickel for every man who sent me a suggestive e-mail or IM, I’d have about 45 nickels. And if I had acted on any of these solicitations, I’d likely have a few stalkers… and a handful of STDs.

My advice for those of you attempting this approach on women: How about a little creativity? You all sound the same: creepy, desperate, unimpressive. I’m not completely conceited, but I do think I’m generally a badass individual and I am worthy of more than a “let’s get blackout drunk” over IM, or a private message asking me for a photo of my feet (although I must admit that one made me laugh).

Face it, to freak isn’t free; we all pay for sex in one way or another: power; respect; health; reputation; euros, etc. You don’t have to be affluent to be a gentleman. Less fortunate, or a penny pincher? Plan a picnic, something thoughtful, something creative. I’m not that high maintenance… or maybe I am. But either way, this bitch is worth it.

1 comment:

  1. LOL damn, as the saying goes,"... and the truth will set you free." Or, "Always tell the truth. That way you don't have to remember what you said." Gotta love Mark Twain. ;-)

    But seriously, your not far off the mark. Men know they don't have to buy the cow to get the milk. Hell, they don't even have to know the cow or live in the same town. Welcome to the global community.

    And it's so true, you play into a girl's "fantasy" or catch her at the right moment and your in like Flynn... without the need of dinner and a show.

    I unfortunately don't operate that way. I like a good meal and good drink with some good company. But it seems that finding ladies that share that interest, is like finding gold dust in the Platte.

    So those are the breaks, and "gentleman" is just another four-letter word... ;-)

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