Do I love you? So much! Do I want to have sex with you on your boat? Sounds like fun! Do I want to kiss you all over? I’ve been waiting all night! Do I like it when you bite my neck? It makes me soooo wet! Do I like it when you slap my ass and call me a dirty little bitch? I love it! Do I want to roll around in gasoline while you throw lit matches at me? What are we waiting for?!? Do I want to have my toe nails removed tortuously slow, give fire ants free range over my body while you cum all over my face? Oh God Baby! Take me now!
Boys. Boys. Boys. Listen to what you are actually saying to a woman. You have not found some ultimate love connection out there among the masses in the real world. Some woman who loves everything you blab on and on about. Some sex kitten who will laugh like crazy over your every lame joke, who will coo over your bowl movements, and thrust her hips during each lull in the conversation just to remind you that you are driving her wild with sexual desire. What you’ve got on your hands there sir, is a stripper.
So don’t squint your eyes at me, and say that you won’t be surprised when I don’t call you. Don’t tagline every crass joke with the fact that the only thing I’m in love with is your money. Well, hypocrite, I’m pretty sure you didn’t slip into this strip club hoping to fondle my mind.
Besides, I’m not saying “I do.” I’m saying “would you like a dance?” These are two very different vows. One involves a hot woman caressing your crotch, telling you how handsome you are, and giggling at your every insulting grab. The other involves a woman expecting too much, eventually becoming disappointed by your lack luster performance, and ending the whole angry shebang in a wallet raping divorce. So…who’s the enemy here again?
