Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Bitch please... shut up

Women love to give me grief. I call it Post-coitus open-mouth syndrome. It generally starts off with her fingers tracing the outline of my 8 pack abs, or just running 4 fingers from my pecs to my CG's; followed by a compliment about how sexy I am. Great. Lots of pictures have been taken of my abs and their raw sexual masculinity is well documented, but thanks for stroking my ego.

I'm certainly willing to return the favor, and provide an equally gracious and heartfelt compliment about your appearance. I know a lot of superlatives for sexy, intelligent, and pleasurable; and how to use them in an heartfelt way, though I usually would rather fall asleep or just catch my breath at that moment.

Why the fuck can't women leave it at that? I do not want to have an entire damn conversation about commitment, love, how fat you are (or feel) and what-ifs every fucking time we have sex.

Ladies please, take the hint: shut the fuck up after our mutual orgasms and just let the moment linger. I worked my ass off for 45 minutes to get you off; I do not want to play twenty questions now. Seriously. Or you try doing all the fucking work for once without screwing it up, and see if you want to "open up" when we're done.

So you think I'm sexier than you? great? Shut the hell up about it. I don't want to hear it, and if you aren't going to believe what I tell you, don't ask the damn question!

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