Plush Windpipes

Wow. Never got dumped that way before. Tally them up girl. One for the record books. Someone dial up Guiness World Record Books. I swear with each dumbass I date, the endings get more and more creative. Pushing me off a building while gazing at the stars together would be original. Some end before they even begin. The “no-call” guy. The rest are just tick tock time wasting. The “hey babe, let’s have fun” guy. Here’s pretty much the rundown on the most recent endeavor: He’ll have sex with you… Then not call for two weeks… THEN, he’ll make a snide remark insinuating you have moved on to better… to get you to banter. You will respond. Direct insults always get the girl in the movies. Stupid chick flicks and their ideas. Then, He’ll offer a restart. Dont do it. You think it over. Don’t do it! And agree. You did it. Grrrr. Everyone deserves a second chance, right? Um, no. Miscommunication is an pandemic. Um… more like an excuse. Restart. Dammit woman. Once the restart happens, He will send you a long ass windpipe of a message that says, I’m so excited about seeing you tonight but… (Uh, ok, where’s he going with this?)  But, I don’t know if I can regain my mental connection with you. Ah huh. So basically he and his pea-brain are “A-OKAY” to come over and fuck… But only if you want! Douche bag King right there. 

Are you fucking kidding me? I’m no scientist; But, I do know how men work. Like children. You can come over and do the horizontal limbo. Party fun time wit the boobie bags. But.. eh, I no longer want to entertain dating you. Oh, the pre-requisite to actually putting your funnel in my cake. He’s probably found some other challenge he’d like to conquer. Doesn’t matter… This carnival is closed, clown. And he’ll do the same to her. Nope, no unicycle to play on in that tent either. Sucker. Then dump her too. Because I’m in no way ready to find love – no matter what I told you. Why? Because I’m a liar. Because I’m THAT guy. Oh well. Deal with it. Thanks. We women appreciate that time and effort that goes into stabbing us with sporks once you’ve gotten our attention. Appreciate you, Rotten Ringmaster! 
And the most annoying part of the whole thing? All of it. No, kidding. Just the smallest part… That the sex was pretty damn mind blowing… (Guess it isn’t the size that mattered, after all.) Ugh! Guess that checklist we had started, I will have to scrap. And measure that building one more time, with my plush toy army, to gage my painful fall. And then dilly dally elsewhere… Because I hate windpipes. 

Leave a Reply