8 Things That Make Me Feel Like a Grown Up

Recently I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a grown up. I’m going to be the big 3-0 in two years time… I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown up. Do you know how I know this? Because I do all of these things:

  • Using the outdoor washing line so I don’t have crunchy towels. I hate crunchy towels. I like my Mama’s towels. Her towels are always soft. It doesn’t matter how many outdoor washing lines I have, or how much fabric softener I use, my towels are never soft. My towels hate me.

8 Things That Make Me Feel Like a Grown Up

  • Owning a bag for life. Even though I never use it unless I need somewhere to store my housemates laundry to prevent leaving it on the floor when their stuff is in the washing machine I want to use. Or for when I clear my closet out. Or when I’m moving house. That’s it though. I never use the bag for life in quite the way they have been intended. I have a drawer filled with bags for life. Those fuckers are gonna outlive me, that’s for sure. They don’t ever get used. That’s why they are a bag for life. It’s a con.
  • Not eating the entire bar of chocolate. I can actually open a bar, eat like five squares, wrap it up and put it back in the cupboard now. When I wasn’t a grown up, I would have eaten the entire bar. Chocolate in resealable bags were wasted on me. Now I use the resealable bags. I’m a grown up now. I can say no when enough is enough. Well, sometimes anyway.
  • I own an umbrella. When I wasn’t a grown up, I danced in the rain. I love the rain. I find the rain weirdly romantic in a wet kinda way. One of my ultimate fantasies is to recreate the scene in Nine and a Half Weeks where they fuck in the rain, on the stairs, down a deserted alley. So hot. Too hot. But now I’m an adult, the rain worries me. My makeup might run. My shoes are suede so they can’t get wet. I straightened my hair this morning, and it’ll go frizzy if it’s wet. I’ll be wet… Back then I didn’t care.

8 Things That Make Me Feel Like a Grown Up

  • I worry about what my house looks like. The first apartment I rented with Bestie almost ten years ago was a shit hole. We d-e-s-t-r-o-y-e-d it. My bedroom had a brand new white fluffy carpet installed and it was lush. I spilled red wine on it at one of our first parties, dropped ashtrays all over the floor, and burnt a bit with my hair straighteners. That’s what you get for renting out to an eighteen year old pair of dicks. Now I’m a grown up, I care about what my crib looks like. I want my other half to come over when it’s tidy, clean, and looking nice. He can’t come in if it’s a mess. Plus who knows what I might have left lying around. I don’t want anyone in my crib if it doesn’t look right. Not even my mother.
  • I don’t like drinking anymore and I suffer with three day hangovers. Actual three day hangovers. Not exaggerated ones. You know that thing they tell you when you’re young – you’ll grow outta partying every night and one day your hangovers will kill you? Yep, that truly does happen.
  • Eating Ceasar salad. What an adult dinner dish. As I sprinkle on the Parmesan cheese and top it all off with a few croutons, I admire my handiwork and think to myself, what an adult dinner! It even looks like a grown up dinner, all healthy and nutritious and colourful. Apparently all of us grow up in the end…
  • Walking past 18 year old versions of myself. Or even younger these days. I see them – the little blonde girls with the big blue eyes and the badass streak and I think, what happened to me? I used to be one of those girls. Now I worry about paying my mobile phone bill on time and whether or not my sun cream is strong enough for me to avoid getting cancer with my pale white skin and plentiful moles.

8 Things That Make Me Feel Like a Grown Up

So there you have it. I’m a grown up. I get excited by things like a new washing machine or a new vacuum cleaner, and I worry about whether or not I’ve had the time to bleach the downstairs toilet this week. I think before I spend money, and bills come before new shoes. I would rather have an easy life and long for a relationships without too many dramas.

I’m a grown up. Are you a grown up too?

8 Things That Make Me Feel Like a Grown Up

If you thought this was funny, why not check out some of these:

Better Man.

‘That girl makes me wanna be better’

Jock sent me a song again. Right in the throes of my anger towards him, he goes and softens me up. Because that’s what he does. He knows how to push my buttons and he knows how to calm me down again. He lets me vent and rage for a few days and then he pops back up with the cutest of gestures. Normally its in the form of a song, and this time is no exception.

Of course, I’m glossing over the fact that he got the name wrong of the song three times before we finally figured it out, and even then that was only because of my own tactical use of Google. But still, the cute and romantic gesture was there. I make him want to be a better man, and if I see fit, he’s gonna treat me like a real man can. That’s the moral of the story here, isn’t it?

But then again, didn’t I already know this? Didn’t I already know that he was perfect for me? Didn’t I already have our life mapped out? The wedding I’ve already planned and the baby we’re already having in my head. He just doesn’t know about it yet. But he will, eventually I know he will.

I love him. I really love him. Even when I’m pissed at him, I love him. I really need to get a grip of myself. I need to stop expecting perfection. Who wants perfection when you can have someone as bonkers and as fun as the guy I’ve got right here in my hands. So what if we can’t go out drinking together without me starting a fight or lambing him? So what if he’s not the fittest guy I’ve ever dated. So what if I’m not the perfect girl he wants me to be? We have fun. All the time we have fun. He makes me happy every day. I might be angry at him but I’ll still read something that makes me think of him and smile, or I’ll see something I desperately wanna share with him. And let’s face it, if I want him to be a better man, shouldn’t I first make myself a better woman? Shouldn’t I learn how to jump up and wanna fight at the smallest little thing? Shouldn’t I take a step back and enjoy some quiet reflection before I turn around and throw away what could end up being the best thing I’ve ever had in my life. And I genuinely think it is too. I’ve never been this happy, this relaxed, or this chilled out with anyone. Not even Big Love saw me the way that Jock sees me sometimes.

And I miss him. I had today off. I’m not sure when is his last day this week. It’s not the sorta thing you can ask in the middle of a fight, is it? I had kinda hoped he’d message me today and wanna hang out. I’m working the next two days, and I think that means tonight is the only night we can see each other. But nothing yet. It’s 6pm. What are the chances?

 

The Fourth Day.

It’s day four of Jock and I not talking. Now I’ve got the raging hump. I miss him so much. He messaged me late last night and said “You’re not still not talking to me then?”. Huh? He ignored the last message I sent… Now it’s all my fault? I messaged him back – “I was never not talking to you” and heard nothing back… yet again.

It’s like we’re playing a game, only I don’t know what game we’re playing or how to play it. When I message him, he doesn’t message me back yet I’m the one meant to be doing all the ignoring? I admit to being a stubborn bitch and letting my pride get in the way of the “I miss you” message I probably should have sent him by now, but why does it always have to be me doing all the damn hard work? It’s pissing me off.

I love the guy but this is exactly what I mean about our relationship. He’s a bigger kid than I am, and that just doesn’t work for me. At all. I need a man and I thought that’s what I’d got. Now I’m starting to second guess. Am I the one making all the adult decisions?

I have a thousand things to say to him and I have no idea where to start. Maybe I should write him a letter?

Dear Jock, 

I love you dude but honestly, you’re giving me the hardest time right now. You do everything I’ve ever asked of you and I apologise for needing more, but I don’t think it’s asking too much to ask you to evolve in the same way that our relationship has and is. 

I don’t ever want you to change. I don’t want you to be serious all the time or to make all the money in the world. I don’t want anything from you but your time and your love. I don’t care that you do the job you do, or that you don’t have the greatest bank balance (and have bad credit). I don’t give a shit about any of those things. I just give a shit about you. About us. 

In order for me to make the leap to parenthood, I’m going to need some sort of stability. I’m going to need you to be able to provide for me and a child – your child. I’m going to need to have somewhere to live that doesn’t home a thousand and one spiders at the same time. How are we meant to rent a place when you have bad credit and I have no credit? I’m not asking you to change everything about you; I’m just asking you to be a man, face up to your past debts, and get them paid off (with my help) so that we can start things on a fresh start. I have my own debts to clear and my own situation to sort out… I’m not blaming this on you. I’m just saying that if I’m being an adult and thinking about these things, you should be too. Unless we’re not in the same place, relationship-wise…

I love that you turn things into a joke. I need to take the same outlook as you sometimes and not worry about everything. I know that I’m a worrier. I get that. I’m not saying that I’m not. But sometimes you gotta worry about stuff. Grown up stuff.

I want to marry you. I’m already mentally planning my wedding. I’ve found the perfect dress, and the perfect suit for you, and one day I’ll show you that photo of that wedding on the big red Big City bus that I want us to recreate. 

I want to have your children. This is a fact I’m becoming more and more certain of with each day that passes, even when we are fighting like we do – those silly little fights that seem to go on for days without any rhyme or reason. I want to have a little boy that grows up just like you. Or a little girl that grows up just like me. I think our kids would be beautiful. They’d have massive big blue eyes because we both have massive big blue eyes. They’d be cool and laid back like you. And they’d have our shocking similar sense of humour. They are going to be fucking adorable kids. A handful and a half, but fucking adorable. 

In short, I don’t want you to ever change anything about yourself I just need you to be a grown up to help me realise that this grown up decision is a good idea. That’s all I want. A little sign to show me that I’m doing the right thing; I’m picking the right guy. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. Show me you can be that father that I know you want to be, and I’ll be more inclined to show you the mother that you want me to say I need to be. 

I love you. Please make your mind up. 

NotSoSexintheCity

xo

Frustration. Nothing But a Pair of Kids.

It’s the third day of Jock and I not talking… again. I don’t get what’s up with us recently. We just can’t seem to get our shit together. It’s like we were all ‘in sync’ and now we’re not. We can’t get our schedules to work together. We’re never in the same mood at the same time anymore. It’s like we’ve just lost whatever it is we had. I still love him to death and I’m pretty sure the same could be said for him about me too, but it’s not working. I can’t work out what has happened.

Frustration.

The drunken fight on Saturday night; that was most definitely my fault and I whole-heartedly put my hands up to this fact. But he needs to take some responsibility too, surely? He needs to take responsibility for the fact that he’s a 36 year old man still running away from his debts. He needs to take responsibility for the fact that he’s a 36 year old man living in someone’s trailer. He hasn’t had the easiest life and I get this, but he needs to take responsibility for something, surely?

I’m so frustrated. In every way that someone can be frustrated. I’m sexually frustrated because I can’t get my boyfriend to have sex with me. I’m frustrated because I’m struggling with money. I’m frustrated because my Mama is an idiot and needs a good, hard slap. I’m frustrated because right now, I can’t stand my day job. I’m frustrated because my writing career seems to be at a standstill. I’m frustrated because I’m going to be 28 years old in a couple weeks, and I’m freaking out because I’m not where I said I wanted to be at the age of 28. It’s hardly like I have ‘real’ life problems, but at the same time, I’m so frustrated with EVERYTHING.

I love this guy so much. I can imagine my whole life with him. I don’t care that people look at us funny, or question my motives for being with him. I don’t care that sometimes he’s too loud or brashy, or that he’s completely inappropriate at totally inappropriate times. I love him. I love all of him. I even love him right now, even though we aren’t talking and it feels like we’re in the middle of a huge fight. But he’s not moving in the right direction for me. He keeps telling me I’m ‘The One’ yet he’s not taking the steps needed to make me “The One’. If I was really ‘The One’, wouldn’t he be trying to get himself out of debt so that we can do the whole proper relationship stuff – things like moving in, getting engaged, thinking about kids, etc? I know we’ve only been together for a year but he’s no spring chicken, let’s face it. If I’m starting to think about a future for us, why isn’t he? Or if he is, why isn’t he making the effort to make it happen? Maybe we’re not on the same page like I thought we were. Maybe I’m further into this relationship than he is? Sometimes it feels as if we are completely in sync and at other times, like right now, it feels like we couldn’t be further away. What do I do?

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find the perfect man to have your kids with? I only want to do this the once, if I even want to do it at all, and I want it to be perfect. I don’t want to end up breaking up and being a single mum. I don’t want to be one of those girls that push their stroller’s down the high street, bashing into my ankles as they plod along too slowly, angry with the world because they are exactly like the other single mums that have been abandoned by the father of their child/children. I know I’m stereotyping here but seriously, do you have any idea how hard it is to pick just ONE man to take that adult step with?

Not that it matters. It’s not like we’re adult enough to make that adult step right now. We haven’t talked in three days. We’re nothing better than kids ourselves.

Why Won’t He Have Sex With Me?

I’m in what sadly feels like an all too familiar situation right now, and I genuinely don’t know what to do about it. I can’t seem to get my boyfriend to have sex with me, and it doesn’t matter how many naughty underwear sets I buy, how many hours I spend getting ready, or how much effort I put in to the evening, he just won’t put out. What the fuck am I doing wrong?

Why won't he have sex with me?

This happened with Big Love towards the end of our relationship. I’m starting to see some weird similarities between the way Jock is holding sex against me right now, and the way that Big Love used to. I might be making this shit up but something has flicked some sort of switch inside me right now and it’s all I can think about.

For fucks sake… why won’t he have sex with me?

The last three times we have hung out, something has gone wrong and we’ve not had sex. The fight last weekend; yes that was my fault, but I knew we wouldn’t end up having sex later on that night. I knew it. He was far too pissed. I was far too pissed!

With the recent weight loss I’ve experienced, I’ve noticed that I’m starting to get a bit more confident. I’m starting to think that I look good and last weekend, I went out in a barely there mini dress that I looked freaking adorable in. It was black with white spots, kinda A-line, kinda 50’s, and the back was cut out. As was a small section at the front. Just enough to show off the enormous tits I’ve managed to keep as the rest of my body deflated. I was wearing black and bronze underwear – a beautiful balconette bra that pushed my boobs right up into the space at the front of the dress. I had matching french panties to go with them – frilly french panties. I looked good in them. Or so I thought I did in front of the mirror. When I do all this, and I look that good and he still doesn’t have sex with me…? My confidence is deflating fast.

He looked like a scruff when he picked me up, to the point where two guys in the garage we were buying smokes from said these EXACT words to Jock:

“Mate, how did you get her?”

I cannot believe he asked him that. TO HIS FACE. I had the cute dress on with a 50’s style quiff and ponytale and a matching black and white spotty bow in my hair, and he was wearing his Spongebob Squarepants socks with new high-top sneakers, board shorts and a dark coloured tee. To be fair he was hardly dressed in a way that matched my outfit, but DID THEY REALLY JUST SAY THAT TO HIS FACE?!?

I was mortified. I know we look odd when we are out and about but honestly; did someone just say that shit out loud? He didn’t let it bother him, of course. Jock is far too dignified for that. He turned it into a joke retorting something back like “I’ve got a dick like a baby’s arm, mate!” 

As he said this, I thought to myself… No, he really doesn’t have a dick like a baby’s arm. I’m assuming this means he has a big dick, anyway. For a split second I wondered why I WAS with him. That’s never happened before. I’ve never felt like that before. What’s happening?

Why won't he have sex with me?

My head is fucked with so many different things right now. I have family shit going on, I’m turning 28 soon, I’m starting to think about a future with Jock yet somehow, yet again, everything has gone wrong. I tried to tell Jock about the shit that was going on in my life and my head, but he’s never around. He’s never there to answer the phone. Even when we are together, he talks so much I can barely get a word in edgeways. I used to love this about him. Now it’s driving me crazy. When I got in his car on Saturday night wearing that dress, the last thing I wanted to talk about was the shit that had been going on. I wanted to go out and show myself off and I wanted to party. I did try to tell him little bits to make him aware that I was probably in desperate need of a blowout, but once again, I couldn’t get a word in edgeways and he always had something important to say.

How am I meant to tell him that I need help? I need a shoulder to cry on, and someone to talk about my concerns with. I want to talk about my Mama’s situation with him. I want to ask him if my writing career is a big mistake. I want to ask him what his stance is on having kids because I’m pretty sure I’m changing my mind about them… and I’m also pretty sure he’s the reason behind it. But I can’t. He’s not an adult enough to have these conversations with. He turns everything into a joke and before I know it, we’re no longer on the same topic of conversation and he’s blabbering away again. I’m getting lost. It feels like I’m drowning.

We had a fight, of course. Sunday was a bad day for both of us. I told him that I was sick of trying to be the adult and sick of getting rejected sexually, and it was over. He’s a child. I can’t have a relationship with a child. I need a man. I told him months ago that, if he wanted a future with me, he at least needed to show me that he was taking control of his debt situation. He has done nothing, so again, I brought it up. I told him that I was sick of him turning everything into a joke and sometimes he needed to take life seriously, and he told me I was trying to change him. I don’t want to change him. I just want him to evolve in the same way that our relationship has. Is that really too much to ask for?

I’m not sure where we left it. He wanted to stay at mine and not waste the entire weekend again. I could think of nothing worse than being in his company anymore. I needed to go home and sleep off what ended up being a two-day hangover and cry myself to death. I don’t like where this is heading. Am I starting to lose interest again?

So right now, we’re in limbo. It’s probably for the best. It’s ‘Shark Week’ for me, and it’ll only turn into another fight.

To be fair, I did warn him if he didn’t put out on Saturday night, I’d leave him, before we even left the house…

 

How To Handle The Drunk Angry Girl…

How to handle the drunk angry girl

When a girl gets drunk and angry, there’s a reason behind it. It’s normally a build up of a number of things, and when she has that one drink too many; the one that tips her over the edge, it all comes out. It doesn’t make sense. It probably won’t be in a very coherent manner, and it will most definitely baffle any man.

I’m the worst for this. I can go out in the happiest mood in the world, in the prettiest dress, with the coolest shoes, and if something flicks that switch inside my head, the bitch comes out. And she’s a proper bitch too.

She’ll make shit up in her head. She’ll be adamant that it happened, even though it probably didn’t, and no amount of reasoning will make her see otherwise. She’ll focus on that one negative thing you said, take it completely out of context and twist it so much, it doesn’t even resemble the original conversation you had in the first place. No one understands how the brain twists things quite so much – not her friends, not the bouncers in the club, and one hundred percent not her boyfriend/husband/lover.

This is exactly the reason I don’t drink. I can’t handle the hangovers, I can’t handle my liquor, and I can’t handle my inner bitch. This is why I like being a pothead. As I sit and write this on my phone, laying on the couch, too lazy to go and get my Mac which is just a lean away, the only thing making the thumping headache and stomach churning go away is the joint I have in my hand.

I get angry about anything when I’ve had too much to drink, and I’ll try to start fights with anyone stupid enough to come near me. I did that last night… I managed to call not just my boyfriend the C-word, but his friend and girlfriend too. Wow. That sure escalated fast.

How to handle the drunk angry girl

So how do you handle the drunk angry girl? Everything you say is twisted against you. Everything you do seems to cause offence. She’s cruising for a fight, friends…. It doesn’t really matter what you do. She won’t remember it enough to be mad at you the next day, and she’s probably going to be more embarrassed by her own behaviour.

The thing you need to remember here is that alcohol alters her mind. It makes her say and do things she would never normally dream of. She’s not really herself when she’s drinking, you know?

Whatever she says and does, ignore. She doesn’t mean a word of it. Not a single word. She has no clue what she’s doing. She won’t remember it the next day. The less you remind her of, the better. She’ll cringe with embarrassment if she’s got any class about her. Just put it down to a heavy booze-fuelled night, and let it go. Don’t bring it up in conversations, don’t take the piss out of her for it. Just let it go. Shush.

She’ll be angry at first when she wakes up. Again, just ignore it. She’s probably still drunk. She’s not back to her normal self just yet… After a while she’ll calm down enough to have a conversation about it. Brief and to the point is your best tactic here; just get it over and done with like pulling off a band aid.

“You were a dick last night but I know we were all hammered so let’s just all say sorry and forget about it, ok?” 

That would have done it. My boyfriend chose to call me the C-word when he first woke up. That’s not a good idea. If I was that kinda person, I could have stabbed him through the eyeball with a pencil.

We’ve had the chat now. I’ve had a lot going on, I’ve had some negative thoughts about ‘us’, my career choices, money has been tight, etc. I got family dramas going on as usual too. Things are hard for me right now. I just needed to fight. He knows this and he’s put it down to being drunk angry. I’m so embarrassed though. I should probably text his friends and apologise for my behaviour. I don’t know if I care that much about his opinion to bother.

At the end of the day, there’s nothing you can do to stop this storm once it’s started so you might as well just accept that it’s a shit night and move on. Don’t take the crap she says to heart. She doesn’t mean a word of it. And don’t play too much on it the next day, she’ll get angry when she gets embarrassed and there’s likely to be a few tears…

This is exactly why I don’t drink.

If She Shaves Her Bikini Line For You, You’d Better Put Out!

Right guys – this is something you NEED to know. If the woman in your life shaves her legs or bikini line for you, and you don’t put out, you’re a fucking idiot.

My other half is a great guy but he’s pretty dumb sometimes. For example, if you’re a regular follower of my blog, you’ll know he has a habit of expecting/waiting for me to get primped and preened, present myself to him baby smooth and smelling of roses, and falling asleep on me before any nookie has a chance to commence. Just like the last time we saw each other. It drives me fucking crazy!!

Firstly, any girl will be off her rocker with rage if you do this to her.

Secondly, LEARN HOW TO READ THE SIGNS!

Do you have any idea how much hard work it takes for a girl to “get ready” for you? I’ve mentioned this before in Why Do Girls Take So Long to Get Ready? but apparently, guys still aren’t getting the hint. Let me educate you.

Girls – share this with your men! They need to know this! 

A girl needs to make sure that she is nice, soft and baby-smooth for you. We begin with shaving.

If she shaves her bikini line for you, you'd better put out!

This takes about half an hour for both legs. For the bikini line – it could take anywhere from five minutes to half an hour. This all depends on style, razor efficiency, hair growth, what product you’re using, and a whole bunch more. And I haven’t even started getting complicated yet. If you’ve got a style going on “down there”, you’ll need to add a bit more time for the art of perfection. Honestly, I can’t be bothered with all that. I’m an “all-off” kinda gal.

She needs to look good, taste good, feel good, and smell good. This means that she will probably be using a shower gel with a luxurious, rich fragrance. There’s also the body exfoliating for the ass and legs. Shampoo the hair twice, then condition. Probably again with a rich-smelling product that she’ll know you’ll love. There might be a “feminine beauty product” for her most intimate areas. If we’re expecting you to go down on us later on, we don’t want to jump into it with a stinky vag. There might be a body scrub thrown in for good measure.

We’re not even out the shower yet guys, and we’ve already put in more effort to our date than you could ever dream of. What did you do? Hop in the shower for five minutes and then spray on some antiperspirant? Pffft.

If, like me, she goes the whole hog, you may even find that she has a face mask on. Before she got in the shower, she may have popped some ‘tache cream on that upper lip hair she thinks you haven’t noticed. I always paint my toenails before I get in the shower too. It makes it easier to get rid of the polish I always seem to get on my skin. I hate that.

Girls getting ready

Once she’s out of the shower, there will be some sort of anti-frizz, heat-protecting, super conditioning product used on the hair, and it will be towel dried to within an inch of its life before being popped into a clip. She’ll grab the first of many more beauty products and starts slapping on. There will be the all-over moisturiser for her body. This will be one that smells delicious, and might even match the naughty little perfume she’s bought that she’s hoping you’ll fall in love with later on.

There will be the face moisturiser, the under-eye & anti-wrinkle cream, plus an anti-pimple gel. Foot cream for her poor over-worked feet and all it’s hard skin. Perhaps there will be time for a bit of work with the Ped-egg too? A quick touch-up of the nail polish on the finger and toenails, and the first spritz of perfume will get sprayed onto our naked bodies. We may put on fake tan, which takes forever and is more complicated than you will ever understand, and there’s the antiperspirant too… Sometimes two lots of if we are really nervous.

Next comes the underwear. We want sexy and stuff that matches the mood we are in, but also that goes with the outfit that we are planning on wearing… which we haven’t even begin to think about yet. This part of the whole getting-read journey could take hours. Do those shoes go with that dress? Should I wear these cute little frilly socks with it? What handbag would I wear? Does it all go with the new bracelet I just bought? Will my hair look better with it up or down? How am I wearing my hair? Crap! I haven’t dried my hair yet….

Girls getting ready

Yep – all of this happens. This is not made-up. This is not bullshit. All of this crazy shit happens. Sometimes, getting ready can be the most climatic part of the entire evening.

She’ll move onto the hair next. We do the outfit last so our hair doesn’t get all over it. She’ll dry it, plus straighten or curl it. She might pin it up and play with bits for a while. This could take an hour or more. It all depends how she’s wearing it. I guarantee those free-flowing curls that look easy and breezy actually took around 45 minutes to get right, and even then she still wasn’t happy with it.

The outfit… If she’s got new shoes, there’s a good chance she’s gonna start from the bottom and work her way up. She’ll try on ten different outfits before settling on the first one she tried on. She needs to find a bag that matches. Plus jewellery and other accessories – sunglasses, bracelets, earrings, necklaces, rings, brooches, ankle bracelets, etc. She’ll try everything on. There will be a lot of selfies in the mirror sent to friends to get a second opinion.

When we have gone to all this trouble for you not to even lay a hand on us. There is going to be trouble. If I have put more than a couple of hours of getting ready time into this date, you had better spend half an hour on sexing me up later on! You had better go down on me and rub your hands up by soft-as-anything legs and ass. You had better breath in the smell of perfume in my hair, and marvel at the makeup that took e about 45 minutes to put on. Oh yeah – I didn’t even start talking about the makeup….

A date for you means spending an extra couple of minutes washing your balls in the shower, and giving yourself an extra burst of man-smell before you leave the house. If we’re really lucky, you might even iron your shirt. It’s an extra ten minutes for you. It’s an extra couple of hours for us. We do it because we WANT you to see us as desirable and sexy. We want you to become smitten with everything about us – how soft our skin is, how great our hair smells, how good our pussy tastes… Do you think all of that magic happens naturally? Be serious.

What I’m saying here guys is this – if we have put THAT much effort into things for YOUR pleasure, you had better at least pretend not to be tired for long enough to give us a good fucking.

Thank you.

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