I have nothing to whine about because I know very damn well what I want from the start, and pick a man for what he already is. There may be some things I might not like about him subsequently, but the important things, like how considerate he is, how generous, the level of virtuosity in bed, and of course, the satisfaction I get from being with him in general, can be easily figured out in the first few dates.
Those women are the worse sort of women. They’re clearly stupid and selfish, and all I can say is serve them right when their man leaves them. They should have stopped frustrating and started fucking him instead, a long time ago. (In the first place, they should have been more perspicacious in their choice.)
Men are really incredibly easy to please. Just make sure they’re fed and fucked, and they’ll tend to be rather contented. At the end of the day, when you’ve been with someone for a very long time, and all that has to be said has been said, you’ll just have to depend on things that need to be renewed daily; referring to food and sex.
It occurred to me this evening, while I was swimming and letting my muscles fantasize about doing biathlons (I’m afraid of bicycles. Simply more inclined to sport where I have complete control over my movement), that there was only one thing (that I knew off) that made Mr. Big upset. Which would also tend to make me upset, especially when he makes his disconcertment apparent. He doesn’t like it when I’m late for dinner. He usually dispenses forgiveness 30 seconds into his apartment after sufficient wine at dine though (the precise amount of time it takes me to strip the both of us).
See, food and sex. Easy.
I don’t know why I’ve gotten so many emails from self-righteous, self-contradicting, not to mention rather barmy-nutty feminists lately. Fine, I’m sex crazed and am absolutely revolting in my perversions and my wild abandon. Well, so are you.
Don’t forget, darlings, repugnance is simply a variation of fascination.
xoxox
No comments:
Post a Comment