(no subject)
I’ve been dating a girl for two months now, the very same girl that I befriended earlier in the year to reverse my reputation of befriending girls just to sleep with them. So it wasn’t a surprise to anyone but my friends, who know I wouldn’t kick around in the shadows for 8 months to land a girl. Everyone else thought it went according to a non-existent master plan, and you can all go to hell, really.
Anyway, boring.
We jumped on a plane to Thailand for a couple of weeks - right, so I brought sand to the beach. I brought won’t-have-sex-on-my-period sand to a put-it-in-anywhere-and-come-in-my-ear-canal beach - effectively fast-forwarding the relationship right out of the honeymoon phase and into the phase where you want to throttle her, and you’re even comfortable enough to say, I will fucking throttle you, you stupid cunt.
But, hey, I’m maturing, and learned a few tricks. In the past I was the Ivan Drago of premature break-ups, and was all “I must break you,” when a girl was six minutes late, or when she answered a phone during a movie, or when she stupidly permed her hair, which has happened four fucking times in my life, which must be a record, and I want a goddamn trophy for it. All bad things, all annoying habits, but like I said, I’m a mature adult now, and so recognize that they’re not break-up-worthy instances. Instead I simply picture myself kicking her in the small of her back, then doze off happily after pissing in her walk-in closet.
It isn’t patience or tolerance, mind you, that I’ve picked up, but instead a realization that all women share these irritable, inherent traits, and so there’s no point judging the individual, but rather the entire fucking gender. There’s an astronomical difference now when the girlfriend pisses me off; I assign it to the species, not to her, and move on with things, because it’s like lung cancer now: not worth worrying about, because it’s inevitably coming my way, because fuck if I’m going to smoke less than a pack a day.
Anyway, here you go, don’t say you never learned anything here:
Reasons You Will No Longer Break Up A Relationship Over, Because All Women Possess These Traits And You’re Not Going To Find One That’s Different, Ever, I Don’t Care Who The Hell You Think You Are, Brad Has These Same Issues With Angelina, But Then Again, He Gets To Have Sex With Angelina Jolie:
. frequent phone calls to pass the time, always during Family Guy, somehow
. hates all of your clothes
. silent treatments, and then anger when you don’t even notice that she’s being silent, or that you thought she was silent because it’s your birthday and that that’s your present
. ruining your simple quest for a scarf by taking the day over with her own spontaneous shopping excursion for things she really needs, like shower curtains and goddamn sandals, again
. being slow to get ready, and then you rush her frantically through the front door, to the car, to the airport, through security, and when you make the gate with only seconds to spare before the closing of the cabin door, she says, “See? We made it. The fuck were you all worried about?”
. leaves the toilet seat down
. digs into her little fucking change purse thing for exact change, thereby creating grocery store rush hour
. not getting your hilarious, Grade-A jokes and wasting them, so you scrawl them onto a napkin to recite to your friends who will appreciate your complex, profound sense of humour and quick wit
. gets back up after backhanding her instead of playing dead or pretend-crying, at least
. refuses anal sex
. allows anal sex, but instead using your anus, on any day other than the agreed upon Anal Wednesdays, then forgets the safety word, so as you blurt out, “FIRE ON THE CASPIAN LAKE! THE RED ELEPHANT IS CRYING! JESUS FUCK, WOMAN, STOP!” she continues, but even more maniacally, furiously, until your colon falls out like an inside-out sock hanging from your rectum, ruining your carpet, and there’s no Swiffer for taking blood/shit out of shag
. talking
Anyway, boring.
We jumped on a plane to Thailand for a couple of weeks - right, so I brought sand to the beach. I brought won’t-have-sex-on-my-period sand to a put-it-in-anywhere-and-come-in-my-ear-canal beach - effectively fast-forwarding the relationship right out of the honeymoon phase and into the phase where you want to throttle her, and you’re even comfortable enough to say, I will fucking throttle you, you stupid cunt.
But, hey, I’m maturing, and learned a few tricks. In the past I was the Ivan Drago of premature break-ups, and was all “I must break you,” when a girl was six minutes late, or when she answered a phone during a movie, or when she stupidly permed her hair, which has happened four fucking times in my life, which must be a record, and I want a goddamn trophy for it. All bad things, all annoying habits, but like I said, I’m a mature adult now, and so recognize that they’re not break-up-worthy instances. Instead I simply picture myself kicking her in the small of her back, then doze off happily after pissing in her walk-in closet.
It isn’t patience or tolerance, mind you, that I’ve picked up, but instead a realization that all women share these irritable, inherent traits, and so there’s no point judging the individual, but rather the entire fucking gender. There’s an astronomical difference now when the girlfriend pisses me off; I assign it to the species, not to her, and move on with things, because it’s like lung cancer now: not worth worrying about, because it’s inevitably coming my way, because fuck if I’m going to smoke less than a pack a day.
Anyway, here you go, don’t say you never learned anything here:
Reasons You Will No Longer Break Up A Relationship Over, Because All Women Possess These Traits And You’re Not Going To Find One That’s Different, Ever, I Don’t Care Who The Hell You Think You Are, Brad Has These Same Issues With Angelina, But Then Again, He Gets To Have Sex With Angelina Jolie:
. frequent phone calls to pass the time, always during Family Guy, somehow
. hates all of your clothes
. silent treatments, and then anger when you don’t even notice that she’s being silent, or that you thought she was silent because it’s your birthday and that that’s your present
. ruining your simple quest for a scarf by taking the day over with her own spontaneous shopping excursion for things she really needs, like shower curtains and goddamn sandals, again
. being slow to get ready, and then you rush her frantically through the front door, to the car, to the airport, through security, and when you make the gate with only seconds to spare before the closing of the cabin door, she says, “See? We made it. The fuck were you all worried about?”
. leaves the toilet seat down
. digs into her little fucking change purse thing for exact change, thereby creating grocery store rush hour
. not getting your hilarious, Grade-A jokes and wasting them, so you scrawl them onto a napkin to recite to your friends who will appreciate your complex, profound sense of humour and quick wit
. gets back up after backhanding her instead of playing dead or pretend-crying, at least
. refuses anal sex
. allows anal sex, but instead using your anus, on any day other than the agreed upon Anal Wednesdays, then forgets the safety word, so as you blurt out, “FIRE ON THE CASPIAN LAKE! THE RED ELEPHANT IS CRYING! JESUS FUCK, WOMAN, STOP!” she continues, but even more maniacally, furiously, until your colon falls out like an inside-out sock hanging from your rectum, ruining your carpet, and there’s no Swiffer for taking blood/shit out of shag
. talking