Scientific Fact #9: Lesbians Are Awesome
It's not just the hair.
Lesbians would never ask when was the last time you shaved your legs. Lesbians think that your fat little belly is adorable, not 'doughy'. Lesbians don't mind it that you're so pale and they would never ask you if you've considered going to a tanning salon because they hear it's relaxing.
Lesbians would never laugh at your jokes even though they don't think they're funny just so you'd let them fuck you.
Lesbians don't keep a bong and shitloads of liquor under the bathroom sink and they don't wake up at 3 am for a pee, then crawl back to bed smelling like a highschool urinal, expecting you to return their half-hearted attempts at cuddling.
Lesbians don't invite their asshole friends over to watch wrestling, those juvenile retards who look at you as though if you were alone for three seconds they would make a grab for your tits. Lesbians wouldn't leave the half-eaten jars of salsa and ashtrays full of butts from that night lying around for days until you finally get sick of it and clean up yourself. Lesbians wouldn't sit there on the couch in their underwear watching Monster Garage, stealing self-satisfied glances at your ass when you bend over to pick up smooshed bits of tostitos.
I guess what I'm saying is that I don't want to see your fucking face ever again. And I'm a lesbian.
Lesbians would never ask when was the last time you shaved your legs. Lesbians think that your fat little belly is adorable, not 'doughy'. Lesbians don't mind it that you're so pale and they would never ask you if you've considered going to a tanning salon because they hear it's relaxing.
Lesbians would never laugh at your jokes even though they don't think they're funny just so you'd let them fuck you.
Lesbians don't keep a bong and shitloads of liquor under the bathroom sink and they don't wake up at 3 am for a pee, then crawl back to bed smelling like a highschool urinal, expecting you to return their half-hearted attempts at cuddling.
Lesbians don't invite their asshole friends over to watch wrestling, those juvenile retards who look at you as though if you were alone for three seconds they would make a grab for your tits. Lesbians wouldn't leave the half-eaten jars of salsa and ashtrays full of butts from that night lying around for days until you finally get sick of it and clean up yourself. Lesbians wouldn't sit there on the couch in their underwear watching Monster Garage, stealing self-satisfied glances at your ass when you bend over to pick up smooshed bits of tostitos.
I guess what I'm saying is that I don't want to see your fucking face ever again. And I'm a lesbian.